
THE DEATH OF JAMES BRADY. 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN 

OR 

TALES OF THE BORDERS 



A COLLECTION OF HISTORICAL AND AUTHENTIC ACCOUNTS 
OF EARLY ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS 

BY 

WALTER W. SPOONER 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION 

BY 

FLORUS B. PLIMPTON 



COPIOUSLY ILLUSTRATED 




CINCINNATI 
W. E. DIBBLE & CO., PUBLISHERS 
1883 



JUN 27 1833 

0? WASHlN^l^" 



COPYRIGHT 
W. E. DIBBLE & CO 
1883 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 



STORIES of adventure in real life, and instances 
of heroism, daring and devotion, when based on 
truth and related with fidelity, can rarely fail to en- 
gage the attention of the most listless reader. To 
know the lengths to which physical effort can go, 
and to witness the struggles of the faculties when 
the body is placed in circumstances of great trial, 
must be objects of curiosity as long as curiosity is a 
naturaHnstinct. 

In the following pages the author has attempted to 
present, in the light of truth, a phase of actual life 
around which cluster associations of great romantic 
interest. To do this with acceptation he has adopted 
the narrative form exclusively, believing that, for the 
purpose which he proposes, a complete and faithful 
picture can be better given by episode than by his- 
torical relation. 

The principal merits of his work, the author be- 
lieves, will be iound to be as follows: 

i. Simplicity and directness in style and treatment. 
A writer who undertakes a task of modest preten- 
sions should have these qualities well developed. In 



vi 



author's preface. 



the treatment of great themes there is room for the 
display of great literary power ; but in dealing with 
ordinary matters, where neither the imagination nor 
the reasoning faculties are taxed, entire simplicity 
will be the best indication of the writer's intelli- 
gence. 

2. Thorough reliability. 

A work which attempts to present a true picture of 
any phase of actual life must not be lacking in this 
element. As far as dependence can be placed upon 
the reliability of his material, the author feels confi- 
dent that the work bears every mark of scrupulous 
fidelity to truth. 

3. Freshness in matter and originality in arrange- 
ment and general treatment. 

Books descriptive of Western adventure and of 
Indian life, character and warfare, are so numerous 
that a new work in this department of narrative liter- 
ature, in order to be favorably received, must contain 
something that shall make it worthy of being named 
apart from the rest. The author invites a comparison 
of his work with others of this class, both in respect 
of contents and method in arrangement. 

The principal authorities which have been con- 
sulted are Pritts's "Border Life," McBride's "Pioneer 
Biography," Hall's "Romance of Western History," 
McClung's " Sketches of Western Adventure," "Spen- 
cer's Narrative," and Crafts's " Pioneers in the Settle- 
ment of America." 

In the story of Spencer the language of the orig- 



author's preface. 



vii 



inal has in several places been retained. The rest 
of the book is of the author's own composition, ex- 
cept where otherwise indicated in the text. 

The following stories, — " Girty, the Renegade," 
" The Doomed Wyandot," and " Sketch of a Pioneer," 
by William D. Gallagher and Otway Curry, respect- 
ively, are taken from "The Hesperian, or Western 
Monthly Magazine." 

The author's grateful acknowledgments are due 
to his friend, Florus B. Plimpton, Esq., the writer 
of the Introduction, and to Prof. W. H. Venable, for 
useful suggestions. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Introduction, by Florus B. Plimpton xi 

The Story of Spencer's Captivity among the Indians . . . .17 

Spy-Life.— Robert McClellan 94 

Robert McClellan on the Plains .125 

The Captivity of John McCullough ... . . . • . • 179 

Captain Samuel Brady .......... 205 

John and James Brady . 236 

The Adventures of Lewis Weitzel „ .251 

The Adventures of Isaac Anderson . 300 

Incidents in the Life of Boone . 327 

Anecdotes of Kenton . . 365 

Remarkable Escapes. 

John Slover . . ... 395 

The Johnson Boys. . . . 412 

The Linn Boys 415 

William Kennan 422 

Mrs. Woods 429 

Miss Callaway .......... 430 

Instances of Indian Generosity. 

Logan Saves the Life of Robinson ...... 439 

Johnston Protected by a Humane Indian 442 

The Little Captive 444 

Interesting Incidents. 

Mrs. Taylor 454 

Luke Holland .......... 462 

Muldrow , 465 

Widow Shanks - 468 

The Wild White Man 476 

Mrs. Cunningham's Captivity ........ 484 

Girty, the Renegade. By William D. Gallagher 498 

The Doomed Wyandot. By Otway Curry . . . . . . 526 

Sketch of a Pioneer. By Otway Curry. . . . . . . 532 



(ix) 



X CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Hunting the Buffalo 558 

New England Stories. 

The Dustan Family ......... 573 

The Attack on Lancaster and Mrs. Rowlandson's Captivity . . 581 

Isaac Bradley and Joseph Whit taker ...... 593 

The Massacre at Dover . . . . . . . . 603 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



The Death of James Brady . . . . . . . Frontispiece 

TO FACE PAGE. 

Emigrants Passing down the Ohio. ....... 24 

Spencer Led into Captivity . . . . . . 43 

Wawpawwawquaw Saves Spencer's Life . . . . . • 57 

William Moore Running the Gauntlet . . . . . . -74 

Spencer's Encounter with the Wildcat . . . . . . .81 

The White Squaw's Shot ......... 104 

The Rangers Ride into the Indian Camp . . . . . .120 

A Convivial Meeting . . . 138 

Rocky Mountain Scenery ......... 146 

Camping in the Far West ..... . 172 

McCullough Defending his Children ....... 184 

Brady's Jump . . ......... 226 

The Massacre of the Weitzel Family . 254 

Weitzel Escapes from the Guards ... ..... 283 

Kentucky Emigrants Attacked by Indians 343 

Boone Escapes by Strategy 357 

Simen Kenton a Prisoner 387 

The Linn Boys Fighting Young Indians 419 

The Rescue of Miss Callaway . 437 

Return of the Little Captive 453 

Muldrow's Adventure .......... 46S 

The Indian Betrayed by his White Brother 483 

Indian Scalp Dance 542 

A Buffalo Hunt 565 

New England Scenery ........ • . 590 



INTRODUCTION. 



THE purpose of the writer and compiler of the fol- 
lowing pages is to bring within the compass of 
a moderately-sized volume, and into orderly sequence, 
the substance of various narratives of romantic ad- 
venture in the Great West during the period of its 
first settlement by a civilizing race. 

These tales are, for the most part, but fading le- 
gends in the memory of the present generation. Some 
of them are out of print ; others to be found only in 
rare collections. They are often prolix and tedious in 
details that, however interesting they may have been 
at the time they were written, have lost flavor and 
significance with the passing years. 

The object, in a word, is to present as fully and 
fairly as may be done from the material at command, 
a picture of pioneer life during the most picturesque 
period of American history — a period abounding in 
daring personal exploits, hardships, sufferings, perils, 
and wonderful escapes from imminent death. These 
could come to pass only in an unsettled state of soci- 
ety, where the safety of the individual depends more 
upon his own vigilance, readiness, and sagacity, than 
upon the protection which either civil authority or mil- 
itary supervision could afford him. 



Xll 



INTRODUCTION. 



It was not alone the rugged and opposing forces of 
savage nature that the pioneer had to contend with: 
attracted from the older states by the genial climate, 
the fat and fertile lands, and the splendid rivers of 
the Mississippi Valley, at every advancing step into 
the wilderness he was followed by a lurking and re- 
morseless foe, who, regarding the invader as a nat- 
ural enemy, neglected no contrived or chance oppor- 
tunity to overcome and destroy him. 

Surprised in his newly built cabin, attacked in his 
half-cleared field, tracked in his hunting excursions, 
the pioneer, with the ever-present consciousness of 
danger, became inured to peril, as the sailor to that 
of the treacherous sea, and, without relaxing his vig- 
ilance, he matched craft with cunning, strength with 
sagacity, lightness of foot with suppleness of arm, 
and, not unfrequently, cruelty with ferocity. 

Under no other conditions could such characters 
as McClellan, the spy, Captain Brady, the scout, and 
Lewis Weitzel, the hunter, have been developed. To 
a greater or less degree, all experienced pioneers re- 
sembled them in intrepidity of conduct, alertness of 
action, and hardiness of constitution. They were sim- 
ply a more perfect type of the back-woodsman, who 
divided his life between hard labor, rough fighting, 
and rude frolicking. 

One will search in vain in the romantic pages of 
Cooper and Simms for incidents of such surpassing 
and thrilling interest as are to be found in the plain 
stories pf marvelous escapes from captivity, torture, 
and death, recorded in this volume. Were they not, 



INTRODUCTION. 



xiii 



indeed, well authenticated and undisputed, they would 
be regarded as extravagancies of the liveliest imagi- 
nation. Too trivial for sober history, perhaps, which 
concerns itself with higher themes, they will grow in 
value as illustrating a phase of frontier life that can 
never be repeated on this continent, and, mellowed 
by time and distance, will yet form subjects for the 
painter's canvas and the poet's pen. 

The conditions of the settlement of a new country 
now are very different from those that attended the 
civilizing conquest of the Mississippi Valley. The 
railroad carries forward to the pioneering colony 
(even anticipating its wants) all the conveniences 
and comforts of older communities ; the telegraph 
speedily follows; and few settlements are now so 
remote as to be isolated from the civilized world. 
But the pioneers who, upward of a century ago, 
crossed the Alleghanies from the east or the Cum- 
berlands from the south, afoot, on horseback, or in 
rude wagons, cut loose from their base of supplies, 
and beyond provision for the barest necessities, had 
to create for themselves those things that contribute 
to the comfort and happiness of living. 

The very ground upon which the pioneer's cabin 
was built, the field which was to supply his food, had 
first to be cleared of its wealth of timber and luxuri- 
ous undergrowth. He was accounted fortunate who 
had brought with him into the wilderness other prod- 
ucts of civilization than the inseparable axe and rifle, 
the plow and the spinning-wheel, and such household 
utensils as were absolute necessities. Dr. Doddridge, 



XIV 



INTRODUCTION. 



in his "Notes on Western Virginia," tells us that he 
was a well-grown lad, and on a visit to friends in the 
East, before he saw or knew there were such articles 
as dishes of earthenware. Pewter spoons and plates, 
wooden bowls, puncheon floors, and rudely-hewn and 
plastered log walls were the common surroundings of 
the hardy men and women who laid the foundations 
of the great States of the North-west. 

There are men of middle age living in Ohio who 
can recall the time when nothing but homespun was 
worn by the boys and girls, and when a rag carpet 
was accounted a luxury. But with all the hardships 
and deprivations of the pioneers, life was not without 
its enjoyments and compensations to them. There 
was a sense of freedom, independence, and equality 
which is not so fully realized when communities be- 
gin to accumulate wealth, and the dividing line be- 
tween rich and poor appears. A hearty though rude 
hospitality prevailed. An English engineer who, in 
early times, had to tramp afoot between Cleveland 
and Pittsburgh — then no more than villages — told the 
writer that nothing so much impressed him as the 
fact that, at every place where he stopped overnight, 
compensation for his entertainment was almost indig- 
nantly refused. The latch-string was out, and the 
stranger welcomed to the best the house afforded. 

The pleasures of the pioneers, though few, were 
hearty. There was the frolic and dance by the large, 
roaring wood-fire in winter, the log-rolling bee in 
spring and autumn, the barn-preaching by "early 
candle-light" when some stray itinerant came bearing 



INTRODUCTION. 



XV 



the tidings of great joy to the frontiersman, and later, 
the occasional camp-meeting and the militia muster, 
with feats of strength in wrestling and foot-races, and 
like diversions, which served to alleviate the other- 
wise barren life of the pioneer. 

It was amid such scenes of hardship, danger, and 
rude pastimes that the foundations of a civilization 
of incalculable possibilities were laid. The builders 
builded better than they knew. We are indebted to 
them for the sturdier virtues of American manhood, 
and for that practical common sense and ingenious 
adaptability which enable an average American boy 
to "turn his hand" to almost any thing, with the 
chances of success in his favor. Yet it is doubtful 
whether, with our many advantages and privileges 
of culture and refinement, we can improve upon the 
pioneers of American civilization in the essentials 
of good citizenship. 

F. B. PLIMPTON. 

"Commercial" Office, 

Cincinnati, November, 1882. 



THE STORY OF SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 



TRUE NARRATIVE. 

AMONG the various stories of early adventure, 
enterprise, and heroism, related in these pages, 
none are more remarkable, or will be read with 
greater attention, than that of O. M. Spencer, who, 
during a period of eight months' captivity with the 
Indians, passed through an experience of the most 
singular and eventful character, gaining, in that time, 
a knowledge of the language, manners, and customs 
of the Indian tribes, which was at once highly inter- 
esting and instructive. This story possesses more 
than usual interest, not only on account of the 
exciting nature of the narrative, but also of the 
extreme youth of the adventurer; and the insight 
which it affords us into the early history of the 
Western country, as well as of the character of the 
savage races who populated it, renders it very use- 
ful and pleasing to the thoughtful reader. 

It was on a pleasant day in October, of the year 

(17) 



i8 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



1 790, that young Spencer, then only nine years of 
age, mounted the leading horse attached to the 
foremost of two wagons destined to the far West. 
In these wagons were stowed such indispensable 
articles of household furniture as could not at that 
time be easily procured west of the Alleghanies, 
With spirits naturally buoyant, pleased with the 
novelty of traveling, from which he anticipated a 
great deal of pleasure, the few tears which the 
youthful emigrant shed on quitting forever the home 
of his childhood were soon dried ; and he won- 
dered not a little at the sober sadness of his father, 
the deep sighs of his mother, and the frequent sobs 
of his sisters, whose feelings and expectations he 
supposed would naturally correspond with his own. 

Mr. Spencer's father had descended from one of 
the first families who left England on account of the 
persecutions for religious opinions, in the reign of 
the second Charles, to seek, in the unbroken wilds 
of New England, an asylum from oppression, and to 
rear a temple to the God of their fathers, in which 
they might worship " according to the dictates of 
their own consciences." Inheriting the spirit of his 
ancestors, he was among the first to resist the pre- 
tensions of Great Britain, and to arm in defense of 
American rights and liberties. Having signalized 
himself on several occasions, particularly in the battle 
of Springfield, N. J., at the head of a battalion of 
militia, he was appointed, by Congress, to the com- 
mand of a regiment, which he led in the battles of 
Brandy wine, Germantown, and Monmouth; and at 



spencer's captivity. 



19 



the head of this regiment he continued until the 
close of the war. 

Before entering the Continental army, he had 
become possessed of a small fortune, the fruits of 
his industry in a lucrative business; but of this, a 
large amount was destroyed by the enemy, and 
more than ten thousand dollars, advanced by him 
in specie to pay and clothe his regiment, was repaid 
to him by Congress, in Continental money, on which ' 
he sustained a total loss. Like many of his com- 
panions in arms, after encountering the dangers and 
enduring the hardships of a protracted war, Colonel 
Spencer found himself at its close reduced from 
affluence to comparative poverty; but with them, 
too, he enjoyed the proud satisfaction of having 
aided in achieving that independence which laid the 
foundation of our national greatness and prosperity, 
and the hope of perpetuating to his children's chil- 
dren the blessings of civil and religious liberty. 

With impaired health and injured constitution, he 
again engaged in business, hoping in time to retrieve 
his losses, and trusting in the honor and justice of 
the government to pay his equitable claims against 
it; but in this hope and confidence he was deeply 
disappointed. After toiling many years with little suc- 
cess, hearing the flattering accounts then in circulation 
of the beauty and fertility of the Miami country, he 
determined to explore it. He visited it in 1789; 
and, being much pleased with it, determined to make 
it his future home. Previous to his leaving home, 
he had disposed of his certificates for his military 



20 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



services at one-third of their nominal value, and 
invested their proceeds in Miami lands; and, hav- 
ing purchased some lots, and erected a cabin in 
Columbia for the reception of his family, he returned 
to effect the removal. 

The first few days of the journey passed very 
heavily, — the thoughtless whistle of young Spencer, 
and the quaint expressions and occasional humorous 
sayings of the driver, an old soldier, being all that 
for hours broke upon the stillness of the lonely 
woods, or varied the dull monotony of the rumbling 
wheels. Gradually, however, the family became more 
cheerful. Dwelling less upon the past, their thoughts 
began to be occupied with their present condition and 
future prospects, and they now found much to interest 
them, and to render their journey agreeable. 

From Mendham, a small village in East Jersey 
(their late residence), their route lay through Easton 
and Harrisburg. Passing these towns, the formida- 
ble mountains which separate the waters of the At- 
lantic States from those of the Mississippi Valley 
were soon reached, and here the family were called 
upon to exercise all their fortitude and patience. 
Few who now make the journey by rail from New 
York or Philadelphia to Cincinnati, with all the com- 
forts of modern travel, can conceive of the hazards 
incurred by the early emigrants, who, besides being 
subjected to the greatest personal inconvenience and 
exposure, were not unfrequently placed in imminent 
peril of life and limb, partly from the dangerous 
character of the roads, which were narrow in width 



spencer's captivity. 



21 



and often extremely steep and even precipitous, and 
partly from attacks by hostile Indians, who at that 
time infested every part of the then Western country. 

During the journey across the mountains, an inci- 
dent occurred which, though happily not serious in 
its results, caused the family considerable alarm. 
They had taken shelter one evening in a dense 
forest, two miles from any habitation, and, after 
eating their slender meal, had retired for the night. 
Young Spencer had slept, perhaps, two hours, when, 
awaking at about eleven o'clock, he discovered that 
his bed-fellow, a nephew a year his senior, had left 
the wagon. After waiting some time, as he did not 
return, he called him; and, repeating his calls louder 
and louder, soon awakened the family. Search was 
made in every direction, but in vain ; loud calls and 
the firing of guns received no response but the 
louder howling of the wolves, which, as the family 
now believed, had torn him to pieces. But, in the 
midst of their alarm and distress, they received the 
welcome information of his safety. He had walked 
in his sleep, with bare feet, and almost naked, in a 
cold night of October, to a house about two miles 
distant, had knocked at the door, and was admitted, 
but did not awake until the screams of the inmates, 
some of whom were terror-stricken, aroused him. 
Recovering himself, he soon convinced them that he 
was not an apparition, but a real '* spirit of health," 
and, as it was late, was kindly accommodated with a 
bed for the ni^ht. 

Before the application of steam to the propulsion 



22 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

of vessels, almost the only conveyance on the West- 
ern waters was by keel and flat-boats. The latter, 
being cheap and easily built, and intended wholly 
for conveyance down the Ohio and Mississippi, were 
always sought by families descending these rivers ; 
and, as there were several places along the Monon- 
gahela at which these boats were built, and where 
they could be obtained on better terms than at Pitts- 
burgh, instead of taking the direct road to that place, 
the Spencers took a south-westerly direction to 
Jacob's Creek, a branch of the Youghiogheny. 
Here, having arrived and waited more than a month 
for the building of a boat, and for a rise of water, 
they embarked for Columbia ; and, in company with 
another family, which augmented their numbers to 
about sixteen, they soon found themselves quietly 
gliding down the beautiful waters of the Ohio. 

The remainder of the journey was made without 
any event of an unusual nature ; and, although the 
emigrants were sometimes alarmed, and often appre- 
hended an attack, they saw no Indians, and but few 
signs of any, during their progress. Passing by 
Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Marietta, Kanawha, Gallipolis, 
Maysville, and a few other intermediate settlements, 
they arrived safely at Columbia, their future home, 
in December, 1790. 

This town, like all others in the neighborhood of 
Cincinnati, was at that time in its primitive state. 
It had been laid out by Major Benjamin Stites, its 
original proprietor, into blocks, — each containing 
eight lots of half an acre apiece, bounded by streets 



spencer's captivity. 



23 



intersecting at right angles, — and was expected by 
him and others to become some day a large city, the 
capital of the great West. 

It was in a small log hut in this village that the 
Spencer family took up their residence. The doors 
were of thick oak plank, turning on stout wooden 
hinges, and secured with strong bars braced with 
timber from the floor, thus forming a safe barrier to 
the entrance below ; while above, on every side, were 
port holes or small embrasures, from which the in- 
mates might see and fire upon the enemy. Of 
windows, there were but two, containing only four 
panes of glass each, in openings so small that any 
attempt to enter them by force must have proved 
fatal to the intruder. 

The new habitation had been occupied about a 
month, — during which time its accommodations had 
been greatly increased, — before any event occurred 
to disturb the peace or happiness of the family. In- 
deed, they had begun to submit to the inconven- 
iences, privations, hardships, and dangers common 
to the pioneers of the West, without much repin- 
ing; and, having heard of no recent disturbances by 
Indians in their immediate neighborhood, had begifn 
to give over their apprehension of danger. Their 
fears were, however, suddenly aroused by the news 
of an attack made by several hundred Indians on 
Dunlap's Station (now Colerain); fifteen or twenty 
miles north-west of Cincinnati, then garrisoned by a 
few inhabitants, and thirty or forty soldiers, under 
the command of Lieutenant Kingsbury. This intelli- 



24 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



gence was brought by Mr. John S. Wallace (after 
ward Colonel Wallace), who, at the risk of his 
life, left the garrison at night, passed unperceived 
through the enemy, and reached Cincinnati the same 
night. Of the volunteers, who marched immediately 
to relieve the garrison, one company was from Co- 
lumbia. All were well mounted, and armed with 
rifles, knives, and some even with tomahawks, and 
dressed in hunting shirts; and, thus prepared, they 
moved off in single file. Arriving at Colerain too 
late to encounter the enemy, who a few hours before 
had raised the siege, they, after a short pursuit, 
returned home. The apprehensions of the citi- 
zens were by no means allayed by their fearful ac- 
counts of Indian warfare and barbarity; and the 
story of the burning of Mr. Abner Hunt, whom 
the savages had taken prisoner a few hours before 
their attack on the garrison, shocked them beyond 
measure. It is much easier to conceive than to de- 
scribe the feelings of the garrison, when, after being 
urged and entreated by the wretched man to purchase 
their own safety, and, above all, his life, by surrender- 
ing to the enemy, they saw him led off, and witnessed 
the fearful preparations for torture ; or the heart-sick- 
ening anguish of hope suddenly extinguished, and the 
mute despair of the prisoner, as he heard the decided 
though reluctant refusal of the garrison to save his life 
at the certain loss of their own. The Indians had tied 
their prisoner to a sapling within sight of the garrison, 
by whom his screams were distinctly heard, arid built 
a large fire so near as to scorch him, inflicting the most 



spencer's captivity. 



27 



acute pain; then, as his flesh, from the action of the 
fire, and the frequent application of live coals, became 
less sensible, making deep incisions in his limbs, as if 
to renew his susceptibility of pain ; answering his cries 
for water, to allay the extreme thirst caused by burn- 
ing, by fresh tortures ; and finally when, exhausted 
and fainting, death seemed approaching to release the 
wretched prisoner, terminating his sufferings by ap- 
plying flaming brands to his naked bowels. In this 
siege, which lasted two days, the Indians suffered 
severely in killed and wounded, without inflicting any 
serious personal injury on the garrison, whose princi- 
pal loss was in cattle, destroyed or driven off by the 
enemy. 

The attack on Dunlap's Station was followed by 
successive depredations and murders by the Indians. 
In the ensuing spring, they attacked several boats, 
killed many persons, and took some prisoners on 
the Ohio. Men were killed, or made prisoners, even 
on the outlots of Cincinnati, and near the mouth 
of Deer Creek, and many were the hair-breadth 
escapes from captivity or death. A Mr. Bailey, 
while returning home one night on horseback, was 
seized and made prisoner in the immediate neigh- 
borhood of the Spencers by Indians who had con- 
cealed themselves behind a large elm which grew 
near the turnpike ; and shortly afterwards, near the 
narrows of the Little Miami River, the brave but 
unfortunate Newell fell a victim to the rifle and 
scalping-knife of the savage. 

The successful expedition of General Scott, of Ken- 



28 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



tucky, against the Indians on the Wabash, in May, 
1 79 1, had but little effect on the tribes to the north, 
whose boldness and daring remained unchecked. 
Early in the summer of that year, they stole the 
horses of the Spencer family, two in number, from 
a shed adjoining the cabin; and only a few days 
afterwards the whole family narrowly escaped total 
massacre. They had just ended their evening's re- 
past, and were about to rise from the table, when 
one of the women, hearing, as she believed, the 
almost noiseless tread of approaching footsteps, 
casting her eyes upon the door, and perceiving, 
as she thought, the latch gently rising, sprang up, 
and, seizing it, held it down until the doors were 
barred. Immediate preparations were made for de- 
fense. The lights were instantly extinguished ; and, 
while the females of the family sought safety by cov- 
ering themselves with beds, the men, three in num- 
ber, with a rifle and two muskets, manned the port- 
holes above, and, by frequently moving to the differ- 
ent sides of the house, endeavored to impress the 
Indians with an idea of their strength. The tread of 
the Indians was now distinctly heard, and the forms 
of two or three of them were indistinctly seen gliding 
through the darkness. Their intention, no doubt, 
had been to take the family by surprise, and, open- 
ing the back door silently, to have first fired, and 
then to have rushed into the house, and with their 
tomahawks completed the work of destruction ; but, 
being too weak in numbers to accomplish this, and 
seeing no opportunity of making an attack, and, 



spencer's captivity. 



29 



probably, too, not wishing to alarm the town with- 
out first effecting some mischief, they soon stole off 
and disappeared. But a few minutes, however, had 
elapsed before the crack of rifles within two hun- 
dred yards was heard, followed by the shrill war- 
whoop of the Indians. Three musket shots in 
quick succession soon sounded an alarm; and, in 
ten minutes, about thirty men had assembled at the 
cabin of Ensign Bowman, on the hill-side, a short 
distance west of the Spencer house. They found 
the family in great consternation. The Indians had 
fired into the house through an opening between the 
logs, and, guided by the light within, had wounded 
Mrs. Bowman slightly in the body. At sunrise of 
the following day, a small party pursued the In- 
dians, whose number, judging from their trails, 
did not exceed six; and, toward noon, finding their 
tracks quite fresh, and judging that they were now 
almost in view of the enemy, moved cautiously, half 
bent, and straining their eyes as if they would look 
through every tree before them. Suddenly, at the 
sharp crack of one of their own rifles, as by one im- 
pulse, each sprang behind a tree, waiting a few mo- 
ments, in breathless suspense, the appearance of the 
Indians. At this moment a huge bear was seen 
bounding off a few rods from the left, and the dis- 
appointed marksman was heard muttering curses on 
his rifle for deceiving his expectations. The rest of 
the party, however, who had strong doubts of his 
courage, and believed that he had availed himself 
of this opportunity to avoid an encounter with the 



i 



30 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

enemy, were deeply incensed, and could with diffi- 
culty be prevented from anticipating the decision of 
a court-martial, by inflicting summary punishment on 
the culprit, who, in one unlucky moment, as they con- 
fidently believed, had deprived them of the certain 
spoils of victory. 

Soon after the failure of Colonel Harmar's expedi- 
tion, the government determined to send a powerful 
force against the Indians, sufficient at once to reduce 
them to subjection. Troops were daily arriving at 
Cincinnati, so that, in September, 1 791 , a large force, 
consisting of regulars, levies, and militia, under the 
command of General St. Clair, then Governor of the 
North-Western Territory, was ready to march against 
the enemy. From the known experience and distin- 
guished reputation of the general as a soldier, and 
the character of the officers under his command, the 
greater part of whom had "seen service," complete 
success was confidently anticipated ; and, in the full 
expectation that the Indians would soon be humbled 
into submission, and apprehending no danger while 
a force so formidable guarded their frontiers, the in- 
habitants of the Miami Valley enjoyed for some 
weeks tranquillity and repose. 

From Cincinnati, the march of General St. Clair's 
army was in a direction a little west of north. Pass- 
ing Fort Hamilton, which they had previously built 
on the site of the present city of Hamilton, and 
crossing the Great Miami at that place, they ad- 
vanced about twenty-six miles ; and, having built 
Fort St. Clair, near the present town of Eaton, 



SPENCER'S CAPTIVITY. 



31 



marched twenty-two miles farther north, and erected 
Fort Jefferson. 

Their progress had been slow, not only from the 
delay of building forts, but from the nature of the 
ground over which they passed, where much labor 
was required in opening and making a road for 
the passage of artillery and baggage wagons. They 
had suffered some detention, too, from the want 
of supplies; sometimes failing from the neglect of 
contractors, and at others interrupted or cut off 
by the enemy. Pursuing the direct course to the 
Indian villages on the Maumee River, or Miami of 
Lake Erie, they had, on the 3d of November, ad- 
vanced about thirty miles north-westwardly of Fort 
Jefferson, and within forty-five miles of the nearest 
town of the enemy ; while the inhabitants of the 
Miami settlements, who had almost daily heard of 
the progress of the army, and who confidently 
anticipated a complete success, were anxiously ex- 
pecting soon to hear that a glorious and deci- 
sive victory had been achieved. But inexpressible 
was their disappointment, and deep was their con- 
sternation, when, on the evening of the 6th of No- 
vember, accounts reached them of the total defeat 
of the army, — accounts confirmed every hour by 
fugitives, with more fearful details of Indian bar- 
barity: and almost immediately afterward, — Novem- 
ber 8th, — the broken remains of the army, who had 
marched night and day, reached Cincinnati. 

Of about fifteen hundred men who en^a^ed in 
battle on the fatal morning of the 4th of November, 



3 2 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



six hundred and thirty, including thirty-seven officers, 
were killed ; and two hundred and forty-four, includ- 
ing thirty officers, were wounded. Beside these ; a 
number of pack horsemen, wagoners, and others at- 
tached to the army, were killed; and of nearly two 
hundred women, principally its followers, three only 
escaped — about fifty were killed, and all the rest were 
made prisoners. Had the Indians pursued their ad- 
vantage, they might easily have cut off the whole 
remnant of the troops, many of whom, soon after the 
retreat commenced threw away their arms, betaking 
themselves to flight. But, having signally defeated 
the army, and satisfied for a time their thirst for car- 
nage, the greater part of them remained to plunder 
the camp ; while those who pursued the flying troops, 
cutting off the stragglers and scalping the wounded, 
after following them about four miles, fearing they 
should not obtain their share of the spoil, suddenly 
gave up the pursuit, and returned to the encamp- 
ment. Here, after plundering and stripping the 
dead, securing every thing that they could individ- 
ually appropriate and, after having gorged them 
selves with feasting, principally on slaughtered bul- 
locks, they began to drink and carouse ; and, while 
some became stupid, others grew more ferocious 
as they felt the influence of the "fire water," and 
rent the air with their hideous war-whoops, acting 
over their savage feats, cutting and mangling the 
dead bodies. A few Indians, less ferocious, dressing 
themselves in the uniforms of the dead officers, 
strutted about the encampment. One of these 



spencer's captivity. 



33 



Mr. Spencer afterward saw, while a prisoner among 
the Shawnees. He wore the dress coat of a field 
officer of infantry, with silver epaulets on his shoul- 
ders, and a watch suspended from each ear. With 
one hand on the facing of his coat, he said: 4 4 Me 
kill um ; " and, smiting his breast with the other, 
vociferated: ' ' Captain Walker! Great man me!" 
The Indians were led by several brave and experi- 
enced chiefs; and, beside the infamous renegade 
Girty, and the notorious Colonel Elliot, it is said 
that Captain McKee of the royal Americans, and 
several of the British officers, were in the battle. 

The defeat of General St. Clair was not followed 
by those disastrous consequences which at first were 
apprehended. Strong garrisons being kept at Ham- 
ilton, St. Clair, and even Fort Jefferson, afforded the 
inhabitants of the Miami settlements great protec- 
tion ; while in Fort Washington several companies of 
troops, more than were necessary for its defense, not 
only gave constant security to the citizens of Cincin- 
nati, but also the means of repelling any inroads of 
the enemy, and of extending aid to other villages in 
case of attack. 

The winter of 179 1-2 was followed by an early and 
delightful spring. On the last of February, some of 
the trees were putting forth their foliage ; in March, 
the red-bud, the hawthorn, and the dog-wood, in full 
bloom, checkered the hills, displaying their beauti- 
ful colors of rose and lily; and, in April, the ground 
was covered with may-apple, bloodroot, ginseng, vio- 
lets, and a great variety of herbs and flowers. At 



34 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



this delightful season, the settlers of Columbia went 
out to plough their ground and plant their crops. 
The principal corn field was distant about a mile and 
a half from the village, and adjoined the extensive 
plain on which the town stood. This field was laid 
off into lots of five acres each; and, of these lots, 
some of the citizens owned one, and others two or 
more : and, to save labor, the whole was enclosed 
by one fence. Here the men generally worked in 
companies, exchanging labor; or, in adjoining fields, 
with their fire arms near them, in order that, in case 
of an attack, they might be ready to unite for their 
common defense. 

Small as he then was, young Spencer did his share 
of the work on the farm, driving the oxen, while his 
father, followed by the corn dressers, guided the plow 
between the rows; for, having lost their horses, they 
were obliged to substitute cattle, which, however, fully 
answered the purpose, being connected by a long 
yoke, having the draft near to one of them, and so 
permitting each to walk in a separate row. The 
ground was very fertile, and, though quite ordinarily 
cultivated, yielded an average crop of eighty bushels 
of corn to the acre ; and some lots, well tilled, pro- 
duced a hundred, and, in very favorable seasons, a 
hundred and ten bushels to the acre. An inhabitant 
of New England, New Jersey, or some portions of 
Maryland, would think it scarcely credible that, in 
hills four feet apart, were four or five stalks, one 
and a half inches in diameter, and fifteen feet high, 
bearing each two or three ears of corn, of which 



spencer's captivity. 



35 



some were so far from the ground, that, to pull 
them, a man of medium height was obliged to stand 
on tiptoe. 

We now come to the period of Spencer's captivity 
with the Indians of the Ohio Valley, — all that has 
been written previous to this serving merely to in- 
troduce the more important subject. Extraordinary 
as are the adventures which we now have to relate, 
it is a fact which has forcibly impressed itself upon 
the minds of all who have read Mr. Spencer's 
remarkable, though in every respect sincere and 
truthful, narrative, that the story has not the small- 
est element of fiction or improbability, and is, in- 
deed, a record of actual occurrences. 

It was a time-honored custom among the pioneers 
of this part of the Ohio Valley to celebrate the an- 
niversary of the Declaration of Independence by a 
grand fete at Fort Washington, the present site of 
the city of Cincinnati ; and, to this end, the settlers 
from all parts of the neighboring country congre- 
gated at the fort, and passed the day in sports and 
festivities. On the afternoon of the 3d of July, 1792, 
the boy Spencer, in company with his sister, several 
ladies of Columbia, and some officers, who had come 
on the morning of that day for the express purpose 
of acting as an escort to the party, left his home for 
Fort Washington, where he was to spend the follow- 
ing Fourth, and remain for a few days. The party 
left the shore, in front of Mr. Spencer's dwelling, in a 
fine barge rowed by eight soldiers, and were soon de- 



36 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



scending, with the rapid current of the river, at the 
rate of six miles an hour. 

The scenery of the Ohio, between Columbia and 
Cincinnati, was, in those days, truly romantic, scarcely 
a tree having been cut on either side, between the 
mouth of Crawfish Creek and that of Deer Creek, — 
a distance of more than four miles. The right bank 
of the river, crowned with its lofty hills, now gradu- 
ally ascending, and now rising abruptly to their sum- 
mits, and forming a vast amphitheater, was, from 
Columbia, for a distance of about two miles, very 
steep, and covered with trees quite down to the 
beach. From this point (marked by a small island 
in the middle of the stream), the ascent became 
more gradual, and, for two miles further down, the 
bank was covered with a thick growth* of willows, 
through which, in many places, it was difficult to 
force one's way. Below this, the beach was wide 
and stony, with only here and there a small tuft of 
willows, while the wood on the side and on the top 
of the bank was more open. We have been thus 
particular in describing the river between Columbia 
and Cincinnati, not only that those who now see it 
may have some idea of its former appearance, but 
also that the reader may better understand the nar- 
rative that follows. 

The party in the boat enjoyed a rapid, safe, and 
very agreeable passage down the riyer, and, arriving 
at their destination, landed on the shore, and in a few 
moments entered Fort Washington. 

The morning of the Fourth was ushered in by the 



spencer's captivity. 



37 



discharge of thirteen rounds from the cannon of the 
fort. At twelve the firing was repeated, and the 
troops under arms performed various evolutions; at 
dinner, as usual, the toasts were followed by the dis- 
charge of artillery; at dusk there was a brilliant ex- 
hibition of fireworks ; and at night the festivities of 
the day were concluded by a very agreeable and 
sprightly ball. 

The two following days were spent by young Spen- 
cer in various boyish amusements ; but, having ex- 
hausted these, and growing tired of play, he became 
restless and uneasy, and formed the rash, though, to 
a youth of his age, — he was at that time only eleven 
years old, — not unnatural, resolution of returning 
home. He accordingly separated himself from his 
companions, and, watching his chances, secretly left 
the garrison, who, as he afterwards learned, knew 
nothing of his absence until receiving the intelli- 
gence of his capture. Reaching the bank in front 
of the fort about three o'clock on the afternoon of 
the 7th, he found a canoe, with four persons on board, 
bound for Columbia, just about to push off from the 
shore. Recognizing one of them as an acquaint- 
ance, he hailed them, and requested them to take 
him on board. This request, after a few moments' 
consultation, was complied with, and the canoe, 
which was small, narrow, and quite unsteady, pushed 
out into the middle of the stream. 

They had proceeded for but a short distance, when 
one of the men, who was in a state of beastly intoxi- 
cation, fell overboard, nearly capsizing the boat as he 



38 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



did so. He swam to the shore, and, as the rest of 
the party did not care to endanger their safety by 
again taking him into the vessel, they left him on 
the bank, and resumed their voyage. The boy Spen- 
cer had, however, been so much frightened by the 
accident, that he was afraid to remain in the boat, 
and entreated the men to set him on shore, which 
they accordingly did ; and, while the canoe continued 
on its way within a few feet of the beach, he kept 
pace with it, amusing himself in the meantime by 
skimming stones over the smooth surface of the 
water. 

In the bow of the boat stood Mr. Jacob Light, 
aiding its propulsion by a stout pole ; in the stern 
was a stranger, a swarthy, athletic man, with thick 
black, bushy hair, who had in his hand a paddle, 
which he sometimes used as an oar, and sometimes 
as a rudder; and in the center sat Mrs. Coleman, 
an old woman of sixty. The canoe had rounded 
the point of a small cove less than a mile below the 
foot of the island already mentioned, and had pro- 
ceeded a few hundred yards along the close willows 
here bordering the beach at about two rods dis- 
tance from the water, when the stranger in the 
stern, looking back, and seeing the drunken man 
staggering along the shore nearly a mile below, 
remarked, with an oath, that he would be "bait for 
the Indians." He had scarcely made this remark, 
and resumed his labor, for a few moments sus- 
pended, when Spencer (who was still walking along 
the shore), turning his eyes from the drunken man 



spencer's captivity. 



39 



to the men in the canoe, saw Mr. Light spring sud- 
denly into the river, and the stranger at the stern 
fall over toward the shore. At the next instant, the 
sharp crack of two rifles in quick succession was 
heard, and, looking toward the willows, the boy saw, 
through the thick smoke of their guns, two Indians, 
with faces black as midnight, rushing toward the 
canoe. 

The feelings of the solitary witness of this terri- 
ble affair, who was himself so soon to experience 
a treatment scarcely less merciless, may perhaps be 
imagined, but certainly can not be adequately de- 
scribed. For an instant he stood motionless, and 
in this instant his brief reflection was, as he invol- 
untarily drew down his head between his shoulders: 
/ have made some narrow escapes, but now death is 
inevitable! One Indian was, by this time, within ten 
feet of him ; in his right hand was the uplifted toma- 
hawk, and in his left the naked scalping knife. Con- 
trolled by a sort of instinct, the boy ran toward the 
water, hoping to reach the canoe, and push out into 
the river. As he did so, the Indian passed above 
him down to the shore, where the body of the dead 
stranger lay. Striking his tomahawk into the head 
of the unfortunate man, and seizing him by the hair, 
the Indian passed his knife quickly round the scalp, 
and, tearing it violently off, held it up for a moment 
in fiendish exultation. Finding that he could not gain 
the canoe, which by this time had got out into the 
current, and turning from the heart-sickening sight 
of the mangled man, dreading every moment a simi- 



4C 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



lar fate, Spencer next attempted to escape by 
running ; but he had not gone ten steps, when the 
other Indian discovered his design and checked 
him. Instead, however, of seizing him violently, 
his captor approached within a few feet and ex- 
tended his hand in token of peace. This proffer 
was not unwelcome ; for, from what he had heard 
of the character and customs of the Indians, Spencer 
now knew that he was in no immediate danger, 
and therefore became comparatively calm. 

The whole of these events did not occupy more 
than thirty seconds. The Indians had been on the 
hill in quest of horses, when, hearing the loud crying 
of a child in a canoe that had descended the stream 
about ten minutes before, they came down to the 
bank of the river, thinking they might have an oppor- 
tunity of doing some mischief. Arriving too late 
to injure those in the first canoe, and discovering 
the second one about a quarter of a mile below, the 
Indians determined to await its approach ; and, hav- 
ing planned to kill the men and woman, and to 
take the youth a prisoner, they concealed themselves 
behind a large log among the willows, from which, 
as the voyagers came nearly opposite, they made 
their attack. 

Taking a last brief glance at the scene before 
him, Spencer now saw that Mr. Light, though 
wounded in the left arm, was making the best of 
his way to the opposite shore, swimming bravely 
out into the stream about a hundred yards from 
the bank. The dead body of the stranger lay just 



spencer's captivity. 



43 



at the edge of the water; and Mrs. Coleman, about 
two rods out in the river, with her clothes spread 
over the water, and her head just above the surface, 
was floating, apparently drowned. The empty canoe 
had drifted out into the stream, and was slowly de- 
scending with the current. 

The Indians now hurriedly led off their prisoner, — 
the one who . had captured him holding him firmly by 
the hand, and the other following close behind, with 
his tomahawk extended almost above his head. Thus 
securely guarded, the youthful prisoner was led into 
the forest and up the high hill bordering the Ohio, — 
straightway beginning his long and trying period of 
captivity, exposure and suffering. 

Crossing the road a short distance further on, the 
Indians stopped a few moments on the hillside ; and, 
after casting their keen glances around them, and 
listening intently as if hearing some sound indica- 
tive of danger, they resumed their retreat, apparently 
satisfied that they were undiscovered. Quickly gain- 
ing the top of the hill, they ran off, in a northerly 
direction, at the height of their speed, one of them 
still holding the boy by the hand, and the other fol- 
lowing with his uplifted tomahawk. 

Having gone about four miles, the Indian whom 
Spencer now regarded as his master, seeing that his 
prisoner's feet were bare, supplied him with a pair of 
moccasins. In return for these, the boy offered him 
his pocket-handkerchief, which the savage took with 
an expression of great pleasure, receiving it as a 
token of gratitude. To the other Indian, who had 



44 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



now put his tomahawk in his belt, Spencer, fearing 
that he might have excited his jealousy, presented 
his hat — a gift which was not so well received, for he 
dashed it on the ground as worthless ; but, instantly 
picking it up (thinking, no doubt, it might direct pur- 
suit), he carried it in his hand until evening, when he 
burned it. Relaxing their speed (although the long 
strides of the Indians kept the young prisoner at a 
constant run), and still pursuing a northerly course, 
they reached, about an hour before sunset, a small 
stream running in a westerly direction. Entering 
this stream, they waded up it about half a mile, 
the leading Indian directing Spencer to step in his 
tracks, while the other followed treading in his. 
After proceeding for about a mile further north, they 
encamped, at sunset, on a low point of thick under- 
wood, near a rivulet. 

Here, while one Indian kindled a fire, the other went 
in pursuit of game, and soon returning with a rac- 
coon, which he had killed with his rifle, proceeded to 
dress it by singeing off the hair, and then dividing it, 
broiled it on the fire. The Indians ate voraciously, 
but, being exceedingly weary, Spencer could eat very 
little; besides, he had just witnessed a most sickening 
scene, calculated for a time to destroy all relish for 
food. While his captor was dressing the raccoon for 
supper, the other Indian, Wawpawwawquaw, or White 
Loon by name, drawing from its sheath his large brass- 
handled knife, and cutting off the limb of a small grub, 
took from his bullet-pouch the black scalp recently 
torn from the head of the unfortunate white man, and 



spencer's captivity. 



45 



cutting a small hole near its edge, and hanging it on 
the stump of the severed limb, deliberately and care- 
fully scraped off the thick fat ; then, forming a small 
hoop, about six inches in diameter, with a thread of 
deer's sinew stretched the scalp within it, as if he had 
been preparing to dry the skin of an animal. Having 
finished their meal, the Indians prepared for rest. 
First tying a cord around their prisoner's neck, and then 
extending its ends around his wrists separately, they 
spread a blanket on the ground, and ordered him to 
lie down. The Indians then placed themselves one on 
each side of the lad, and, passing the ends of the cord 
under their bodies, and covering themselves with the 
remaining blanket, soon sank into a profound sleep. 

For some time the boy lay ruminating on the sad 
events of the day; his mind filled partly with fearful 
apprehensions of the future, and partly with thoughts 
of his home, to which he feared that he should never 
return. Here, as he thought of his beloved parents 
and affectionate sisters, and felt for the moment that 
he should never a^ain behold them, tears of bitter 
regret flowed plentifully, and he could scarcely re- 
press his sobs. Gradually, however, he became more 
calm, and at length, overcome by fatigue, dropped 
asleep, forgetting for a period all his sorrows. 

It is now time to return to Spencer's two surviving 
companions of the canoe adventure, Mr. Light and 
Mrs. Coleman, one of whom, severely wounded, we 
left battling with the current of the Ohio, and the 
other, apparently past all rescue, floating helplessly 
on the surface of the water. Mr. Light, as Spencer 



4 6 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



afterward learned, upon seeing the Indians retreat, 
returned to the Ohio shore, and, evidently thinking 
the old woman to be drowned, did not attempt to 
save her, but immediately set out for Cincinnati, 
where he soon arrived, and communicated to the gar- 
rison the shocking events of the day. The com- 
manding officer immediately despatched an express 
to Colonel Spencer, informing him of his son's cap- 
ture, and proposing to send out a small force of 
regulars. While the news was spreading, a number 
of the inhabitants of Columbia assembled, anxious 
to pursue the Indians ; but Mr. Spencer, fearful 
that, on finding themselves hard-pressed, they would 
instantly kill their prisoner, returned by the express 
a request that no troops should be sent after them, 
and, with some difficulty dissuading his neighbors 
from their proposed pursuit, obtained their promise 
that they would proceed no farther than the spot 
where the dead man still lay. 

We have said that, upon reaching the shore, Mr. 
Light set out at once for Fort Washington, under 
the impression that he was the only one who had 
escaped. Judge, then, of his astonishment upon 
learning, shortly after his arrival, of the safety of 
Mrs. Coleman, and hearing from her own lips the 
almost incredible story of her escape. Improbable 
as it may seem, after jumping from the canoe into 
the river, the old woman had floated with the cur- 
rent quite down to Cincinnati, where she was taken 
out of the water alive, and, after recovering from 
the exhaustion so natural after a passage of this ex- 



spencer's captivity. 



47 



traordinary character, had confirmed the report of 
the day's disaster which had already been made by 
Mr. Light. That a person rendered totally helpless 
by inability to swim could thus escape a watery death 
which seemed inevitable, is a circumstance so remark- 
able as to be almost past belief; but its truth was 
afterwards frequently asserted to Mr. Spencer by 
Mrs. Coleman herself, as well as by others of un- 
doubted veracity, some of whom had assisted in 
taking her out of the water. 

The news of young Spencer's capture caused a 
sensation of profound sorrow among all who had 
known him, both in Columbia and at Fort Washing- 
ton, for he was a boy of uncommon brightness, 
amiability, and promise ; and the most sincere sym- 
pathy was extended by all to his afflicted parents, 
who had thus been bereaved, by a calamity worse 
than death, of an only and dearly-beloved son. The 
shock to his parents, and especially to his mother, was 
almost unsupportable. Often, when she thought of 
him, she fancied that she saw him fainting with fatigue, 
or famishing with hunger, or pining with disease ; and 
sometimes her terrified imagination represented him 
falling by the knife, or sinking under the stroke of 
the tomahawk, or expiring at the stake in the flames, 
under the most cruel tortures. Nor was she relieved 
from these distressing apprehensions, and this painful 
state of suspense, until some time in the November 
following, when certain information was received from 
the commanding officer at Post Vincennes that her 
son was still alive, and had been seen at the Indian 



4 8 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



village, near the mouth of Auglaize, only a few weeks 
before, by Captain Wells (an Indian agent, who was 
killed at the capture of Chicago, in the War of 
1 812), at that time a prisoner at large among the 
Indians. 

With the dawn of the morning of the 8th of July 
the Indians awoke, and, untying the cord with which 
their captive was bound, arose. A scanty breakfast 
was soon made from the remains of the raccoon 
which had been killed for their supper. The bag- 
gage, consisting of two blankets, a bridle, a cord, 
and a scalp, was shouldered, the priming of the 
rifles was examined, and, before the sun arose, all 
were marching in single file, in the direction of the 
Shawnee villages. About noon they passed along the 
east side of a hill, beyond which there appeared to 
be a large opening; and here the Indians moved cau- 
tiously, half bent, and with trailed rifles. Proceeding 
about half a mile, they halted in a deep ravine ; when 
White Loon, taking the bridle, and pursuing a west- 
erly course down the hollow, soon disappeared. In 
about ten minutes, however, he returned, mounted on 
a fine cream-colored horse, which he had just stolen, 
and, taking the boy up behind him, trotted off several 
miles, the other Indian following, until, coming to a 
thick undergrowth, they slacked their pace into a 
brisk walk. Here they found a faint trace, which, pur- 
suing a few miles, led them into a plain path, which, 
as Spencer afterward learned, was the Indians' war 
path. 



V 



spencer's captivity. 



49 



The Indians seemed highly pleased with their late 
acquisition, riding the spirited animal by turns. But, 
alas, how uncertain are the comforts of this world! 
About the middle of the afternoon the horse sud- 
denly became dull, and seemingly sullen, so that he 
could be urged forward with difficulty. At length 
he stopped short. He had been violently attacked 
with either bots or colic, and, now lying suddenly 
down, began to roll and groan, sometimes struggling 
with every limb, and sometimes dashing his head 
against the ground. The Indians stood over him, 
now beating him severely, and now talking to him in 
Indian, as if expostulating with him, or threatening 
him with vengeance in case of his remaining stub- 
born ; but their threats had no more effect than their 
blows, and they finally were obliged to leave him in 
the path, and proceed without him. 

This evening the party encamped in a low, rich 
bottom, near a beautiful stream, where, having made 
a fire, and roasted part of a young fawn, which 
White Loon had a few minutes before killed, they 
ate a very hearty supper, though without salt or 
bread. After their meal, taking a small piece of 
tobacco, and cutting it fine by passing the edge of 
his knife between his fore-finger and thumb, and 
receiving it as thus prepared into the palm of 
his left hand, the White Loon, with great solemnity 
and apparent devotion, sprinkled a few grains of it 
on the coals, an offering, as Spencer afterward un- 
derstood, to the Great Spirit. The Indian then min- 
gled the rest of the tobacco with some dried 



50 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



sumach leaves, which he drew from his bullet- 
pouch, and, filling the bowl of his tomahawk, smoked 
a whiff or two, and then handed the pipe to his 
companion, who, after smoking a few moments, re- 
turned it. The Indians thus puffed alternately until 
the tobacco was consumed, frequently filling their 
mouths with smoke and forcing it through their nos- 
trils, closing their brief use of the pipe with a peculiar 
suck of the breath, and slight grinding of the teeth. 
The day had been remarkably fine ; they had traveled, 
with short intermissions, from early dawn until sunset, 
a distance of at least forty miles ; and, very weary, 
they lay down under a spreading beech, and soon fell 
into a profound sleep. 

They had slept only a few hours, when they were 
awakened by the roar of a tremendous hurricane 
passing a few rods north of them, prostrating the 
trees with a terrible crash, and carrying devastation 
in its broad track. Over their heads the thunder 
broke with deafening peals, and the lightnings seemed 
a constant sheet of flame. Spencer sprang from the 
ground, and, gazing on the awful scene, stood motion- 
less with terror. Expecting every moment to perish, 
he remained for a short time unconscious of the 
presence of a human being; but, his fear subsiding 
a little, he ventured to look at the Indians, who were 
standing near him. He saw them perfectly calm, ap- 
parently insensible of danger, gazing with a sort of 
delighted wonder, and, as the lightning flashed from 
the dense clouds, expressing their admiration with 
their customary exclamation : Wawhaugh ! waugh ! 



spencer's captivity. 51 

On the morning of the 9th, the sun rose brightly 
above the cloudless horizon, and shone upon a sky as 
clear and beautiful as if it had never heen darkened 
by clouds or torn by tempests ; and, but for the bent 
tree tops above, and the wide-spread devastation all 
around, one could scarcely have believed that in the 
heavens, so bright and tranquil, desolation and ter- 
ror had so lately held their empire. 

Pursuing their journey with difficulty, — for the 
fallen trees greatly obstructed their progress, — they 
came, after a while, to a comparatively open space ; 
and here they traveled with their former expedition. 
Presently the tinkling of a bell was heard in the dis- 
tance, and Wawpawwawquaw, again acting as the 
forager of the party, went in the direction whence it 
issued. He returned in about half an hour with an 
old black horse, probably a pack-horse belonging to 
the army, which had strayed off. Suspended from 
his neck, by a broad leathern strap, was a large bell, 
which the Indians stuffed with grass to prevent its 
tinkling. This horse, though not so good as the one 
that had been lost, was esteemed a valuable acquisi- 
tion, particularly by the weary prisoner. He mounted 
the old horse, — a natural pacer, — and rode very pleas- 
antly, without interruption ; for the Indians did not 
seem at all disposed to share it with him, but strode 
sturdily forward, apparently insensible to fatigue. 

Towards the evening of the third day, the travelers 
halted on the south bank of a beautiful stream near 
a small grove. Here the Indians hoppled the horse, 
unstopped his bell, and turned him loose to graze. 



52 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



This done, they proceeded to secure their prisoner, 
whom they ordered to sit down with his back against 
a small tree, and to this they lashed him firmly with 
a strong cord, passing it around his neck, and then 
with a knot around his wrists separately, fastening 
one end to a stake which they had driven into the 
ground, and the other to a root in the bank of the 
stream. Placing a large piece of bark over the boy's 
head, to shelter him from the sun, they then left him, 
and, taking their rifles, went out to hunt. 

Left thus to himself, young Spencer fell to reflect- 
ing upon the various circumstances of his captivity, 
and speculating upon his prospects for the future. 
It is not strange, therefore, that the thought of mak- 
ing his escape suddenly presented itself forcibly to 
his mind, and that, acting upon his first impulse, he 
promptly set about to free himself, if possible. We 
have seen that he was of a remarkably adventurous 
disposition, and that he had a shrewdness, judgment, 
and resolution quite unusual for one so young. All 
of these qualities now stood him in good stead, and 
enabled him to act a part which would have done no 
discredit to one of maturer years and greater phys- 
ical capacity. 

Seizing the cord with which he was bound, he at 
first pulled it violently, attempting to break it, or 
to detach it from the root to which it was fastened; 
but, failing in this attempt, he next laid hold of it 
with his left hand, and endeavored to pull it from 
the stake. This effort was equally fruitless, and his 
endeavor must have been without success had he not 



spencer's captivity. 



53 



noticed that the cord was tied on the outside of the 
cuff of his sleeve, and that he might possibly draw 
his arm through it. This he succeeded in doing, and, 
after freeing one hand, he disengaged the other in 
the same way, and soon found himself at liberty. 

His next care was to secure some provisions for 
his journey ; and then, bridling and mounting the 
horse, he took the path which he had previously 
followed with the Indians, and set out in the 
homeward direction, hoping that, if he could obtain 
a start of a few miles before his absence was dis- 
covered, he would be comparatively safe. And, 
indeed, it seems very probable that, had he been 
able to travel with expedition, he would soon have 
placed himself beyond the reach of his pursuers, 
and, barring accidents, have accomplished his ulti- 
mate purpose. Unhappily, however, his wishes and 
expectations traveled faster than his horse, which, 
although he used all his exertions, he could not 
urge beyond a moderate pace. He traveled steadily, 
however, until sunset, when he dismounted, and, 
bending a small twig by the path in the direction of 
home, he led the animal a few hundred yards from 
the trace up a slope of woodland into a thicket of 
sassafras, and, securing him with the bridle, went in 
search of a lodging-place. 

About sixty yards from the thicket, he found a large 
fallen tree which, having near its roots a spacious 
hollow, afforded a tolerable shelter. Here he deter- 
mined to pass the night, but first set about to pre- 
pare his evening meal. He had brought with him 

I 



54 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



a piece of dried deer's meat, but he very prudently 
resolved to lay this aside for the following day, when 
he would need it more. He therefore made his sup- 
per on raspberries, which grew in great abundance, 
and, straying from bush to bush, eagerly picking and 
eating to satisfy his hunger, paid very little attention 
to the direction he was taking. To his great alarm, 
after having eaten all that he wanted, he found that 
he had lost his way, and, terrified at the thought of 
dying in the wilderness, ran hither and thither in 
search of the spot which he had marked as his 
night's resting-place. This he fortunately found, 
though after a great deal of trouble, and, exhausted 
with his day's adventures, had little difficulty in com- 
posing himself to rest. 

He had lain for only a few moments, his mind 
alternately occupied with hopeful anticipations of safe 
and happy return, and despairing fears of being 
again captured by the Indians, or falling a prey to 
wild beasts, when he was aroused by the cracking of 
bushes and a noise like that from short strokes on the 
ground made in rapid succession. The cause of this 
noise he soon perceived to be a herd of deer, which, 
bounding through the woods, swiftly approached him, 
one of them springing over the log under which he 
lay, and the others leaping between him and the 
thicket. After they had disappeared, he again lay 
down, only to be aroused by an incident equally un- 
expected, and, as it proved, far more unpleasant. 
Hearing a slight rustling in the bushes, he raised 
himself on his elbow and looked in the direction from 



spencer's captivity. 



57 



which it came. His consternation was no less than 
his amazement when he saw the two savages, one 
of whom had seized the horse by the bridle, look- 
ing in every direction, endeavoring to discover his 
retreat. Recovering his self-possession in an instant, 
the boy was not slow in comprehending the situation. 
He wisely concluded that, if he waited for the Indians 
to find him, they, out of rage and mortification, would 
tomahawk him where he lay; and he therefore im- 
mediately left his hiding-place, and, falling on his 
knees, and begging their pardon, gave himself up. 

"I think," says Mr. Spencer, writing of this inci- 
dent many years after, in his interesting narrative of 
his captivity, — "I think that I can now see the hor- 
rible savage, my master, grinding his teeth with rage, 
and, with a look of fiendish malice that almost froze 
my blood, raise his rifle to his shoulder, intending to 
shoot me. Were my mother's prayers now ascending • 
before the throne? Was my father now supplicating 
for his lost son ? Or had the Father of mercies said, 
' Lay not thine hand upon the lad ' ? " 

Just at the moment that the Indian was about to 
discharge his gun, his companion generously inter- 
posed, and, throwing up its muzzle, saved the boy's 
life. A brief altercation, and then a few moments' 
earnest conversation followed, when, setting down 
their rifles, the Indians cut several large switches, 
with which they proceeded to chastise the offender, 
beating him mercilessly for several minutes over the 
head, face, and shoulders. After administering this 
punishment, they gave the boy to understand that if 



58 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



he again attempted to escape they would surely kill 
and scalp him; and then, regaining the path, pro- 
ceeded on their journey. 

After a few hours' weary march, during which the 
lad, — who was this time compelled to walk, — suffered 
the most barbarous usage, being repeatedly goaded 
with a sharp-pointed stick, and beaten with switches 
by his master, who rode behind him, they reached the 
place where the Indians had intended to camp during 
the night. The young prisoner, who fancied that the 
ill treatment which he had already received would 
purchase him at least a night's respite from punish- 
ment, was now tied upright to a stake, with his hands 
pinioned so closely behind his back as almost to dis- 
locate his shoulders, and his wrists bound so tightly 
that the blood could scarcely circulate. In this pain- 
ful position, with his head bruised and swollen, and 
every limb in his body suffering from torture and 
fatigue, he passed a night of unspeakable agony, 
and, forgetting the late interpositions of Providence, 
murmured against God and longed for death. 

At daybreak the Indians, after eating their break- 
fast, unbound the suffering prisoner, and, without 
offering him any food, urged him forward with the 
same speed as they had done the night previous. 
About noon they descended into a rich bottom, and 
halted on the bank of a small creek near a fine 
spring. Near this spring grew an immense syca- 
more, hollow at the bottom, and having on one side 
an opening" about six feet high, barricaded with logs 
covered with brush. The Indians immediately went 



spencer's captivity. 



59 



to the tree, removed the brush, looked into the hol- 
low space for a moment, and then returned, appar- 
ently satisfied. They now made a fire, and pre- 
pared their dinner, which was of roasted squirrels. 
They ate their meal in silence, taking no notice of the 
boy, who was by this time suffering the extremities of 
hunger, having eaten nothing for thirty hours but 
raspberries. Besides his distress for want of food, 
he was laboring under the effects of a severe dysen- 
tery, with which he had been seized in the morning; 
and the pains which he suffered from his bodily 
bruises had by no means subsided. He sat for a 
time silent and very despondent. Looking toward 
the opening of the hollow sycamore, he saw that it 
appeared black within, as if it had been burned ; 
and he was now suddenly seized with the terrible 
apprehension that in this hole the Indians intended 
to kindle a fire and burn him, — an apprehension 
which was increased when he reflected upon their 
harsh and beastly treatment of him. He was, how- 
ever, soon relieved from his dreadful anxiety, for, 
after finishing their dinner, the Indians led the horse 
to the tree, and by its aid dragged away the logs 
from the opening; and the hollow which had been 
thus barricaded now appeared to be a rude Indian 
cabin for storing property. From this cabin die 
Indians took a variety of articles, such as blankets, 
deer-skins, a brass kettle, etc., and, loading the horse 
with them, they once more continued on their way. 

From the conduct of the Indians since his capture 
the evening before, Spencer had reason to believe 



6o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



that he had changed masters, — and this belief was 
afterwards confirmed. Wawpawwawquaw, his new 
master, was the son of a Mohawk chief, and, on 
account of the almost total destruction of his nation, 
had joined the Shawnees. He was brave and fierce 
in battle, but at all other times, unless provoked, 
was, for a savage, remarkably humane and kind. 
As for the first Indian, — a Shawnee, — he was an 
ugly and rascally looking fellow in countenance, 
and his appearance did not belie his actual nature, 
for he was wicked, brutal, and treacherous beyond 
most of his race. 

This night the party camped at a place six miles 
west from the present town of Sidney, on the 
Great Miami. Here, for the first time in thirty- 
six hours, the captive made a hearty meal and 
slept soundly, awaking greatly refreshed in the 
morning. 

Resuming their journey, they met, on the follow- 
ing afternoon, a party of Indian hunters, the first 
human beings that they had seen since leaving the 
banks of the Ohio. In response to inquiries, White 
Loon (as Spencer knew from his frequent and sig- 
nificant gestures), entered into a detailed account 
of the incidents connected with the ambush they 
had set for their victims, the surprise and the fatal 
attack, and finally exhibited as a trophy the scalp 
which he had taken. After purchasing of the hunt- 
ers, for a small silver broach, a piece of dried veni- 
son, the Indians went on their way, following the 
course of a small stream, which they had reached 



spencer's captivity. 



6i 



the same morning, and which afterwards proved to 
be the Auglaize. 

Three hours after sunset, on the 12th of July, 
1790, the travelers came in sight of an Indian vil- 
lage. Wawpawwawquaw now cut a long pole, tied 
the scalp to the end of it, and, lifting it in the air, 
raised the scalp halloo, a shrill whoop, which both 
Indians repeated frequently as they neared the town. 
They found all the inhabitants, men, women, and 
children, numbering altogether about twenty, assem- 
bled; and, when the first greetings had been ex- 
changed, Wawpawwawquaw stood up before the 
company, and, with the gravity and dignity peculiar 
to an Indian warrior, related his story. 

While he was reciting the incidents of the attack, 
a little old Indian suddenly sprang upon the boy, 
threw him violently on the ground, and gave a loud 
shout, accompanied by extravagant gestures and ex- 
clamations, — signifying that he had vanquished his 
enemy. At this, the squaws began to scream, and 
the children, down to even the small pappoose, set 
up a shrill cry ; and, had not his extreme weakness 
excited the pity, and, therefore, enlisted the protec- 
tion, of Wawpawwawquaw, the unfortunate prisoner 
would inevitably have been obliged, young as he was, 
to run the gauntlet. 

From this first village they soon took their de- 
parture, and arrived, about noon, at a second one, 
further down the river. Here the inhabitants, although 
they showed equal curiosity, were much more civil; 
and an elderly and noble-looking Indian, — probably 



62 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



the village chief,- — took the party to his cabin, and 
had a good meal of boiled hominy, corn-cake, and 
venison prepared for them. The young prisoner, 
who was almost famished, ate eagerly, and, after 
finishing his dinner, to show his gratitude, arose and, 
handing his hostess the bowl out of which he had 
eaten, bowed low and thanked her. She smiled and 
said : Enee ; that is right; you are welcome ; it is nothing. 

After leaving the second village, they traveled lei- 
surely. Toward evening, they stopped at an Indian 
cabin on the way, occupied by Wawpunnoo, a brother 
of Wawpawwawquaw. Here, for the first time in six 
nights, they slept under shelter, the prisoner lying on 
a deer-skin with a blanket over him, and resting com- 
fortably. 

A little before noon of the 13th of July, they ar- 
rived at the end of their long and tedious journey, 
having traveled six days through the wilderness, and 
passed over a distance of not less than one hundred 
and sixty miles. The village which proved to be 
their destination was situated at the confluence of 
the Auglaize and Maumee rivers ; and here, selling 
their deer-skins to a British Indian trader, the In- 
dians crossed the Maumee to a small bark-cabin. 
Here they left their prisoner in care of an old 
woman, — the mother of Wawpawwawquaw, — and 
departed for their homes in the village below, about 
a mile distant. 

Weak, exhausted, and suffering, — his body ema- 
ciated from hunger and sickness, and his limbs 
swollen and aching in every joint from cruel, bleed- 



spencer's captivity. 



63 



ing, and festering wounds, — it is not strange that, 
upon the conclusion of his trying journey, the poor 
lad felt a sense of relief. He had, however, some 
misgivings with regard to the treatment that was in 
store for him ; but these were soon removed. The 
old woman, whose name was Cooh-coo-cheeh, at 
once made a careful examination of his body. She 
found him covered with bruises ; his feet were so 
swollen as to retain the impress of the finger when 
laid upon them, and his toes, from the friction 
of the sand collected in his moccasins, were worn 
almost to the bone. Although not of a very tender 
or impressionable nature, her sympathy was excited, 
and she set about to effect a cure. This was soon 
accomplished, for she was a very skilful medicine- 
woman, and, applying some simple vegetable reme- 
dies, soon restored her patient to perfect health. 

This old woman was a princess of the Wolf tribe 
of the Iroquois, who had formerly lived on the Sorel 
River. Her husband had been a distinguished chief 
of the Mohawks, a people once famous for their 
superior intelligence and prowess, and who had oc- 
cupied the country along the St. Lawrence to Lake 
Ontario and bordering Lakes George and Champlain. 
For many years very powerful, and, indeed, almost 
invincible, this nation enjoyed an acknowledged su- 
premacy over the Northern tribes until about 1770, 
when, meeting with a disastrous defeat by the Ameri- 
can colonists, they were scattered, and their nation- 
ality was destroyed. The husband of Cooh-coo- 
cheeh, with his wife, three sons, and a daughter, then 



6 4 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



removed to the Shawnee village, a mile below the 
mouth of the Auglaize. In October, 1 790, he re- 
ceived a mortal wound, at the victorious battle fought 
by the Indians against General Harmar ; and from 
the effect of this wound he shortly after died. He 
was a chief who was greatly beloved and widely 
celebrated, and a warrior of the most signal bravery. 
He was buried in a sitting posture, facing the west, 
and, according to the custom prevalent among the 
Indians, his rifle, tomahawk, knife, blanket, and every 
thing which a hunter and warrior was supposed to 
require in the spirit world, were placed by his side. 
His long scalp-pole was, on great and important oc- 
casions, planted by his grave ; and on this pole Spen- 
cer once counted nineteen scalps taken from his 
unfortunate countrymen, — the hair being of all col- 
ors and length, and streaming in the wind. 

Cooh-coo-cheeh was a woman who was held in great 
respect, reverence, and awe by the people around 
her as one skilled in medicine and deeply versed in 
mysterious and supernatural lore. She was both 
priestess and prophetess, and the Indian braves, 
before taking the war-path, never failed to consult 
her oracles, in which they placed the most implicit 
reliance. Like the Delphian priestess of old, she 
delivered her prophecies in terms capable both of 
favorable and of unfavorable construction, and so, 
whatever was the issue of a campaign, battle, or 
adventure, the event always was in keeping with 
her prediction, and strengthened the opinion enter- 
tained by her people of her wonderful powers. 



« 



spencer's captivity. 65 

The family of this old squaw consisted of an In- 
dian orphan girl of about thirteen, named So-to-ne- 
goo, and a half-Indian boy of ten, called Ked-zaw- 
saw, the son of the renegade Simon Girty. Both 
the girl and the boy were her grand-children, and 
were very quick and bright in temperament and 
sprightly in action. Their mother was the wife of 
George Ironside, a British Indian trader, who lived 
at a trading station on the opposite bank of the 
river. 

The house in which young Spencer now took up 
his residence was simple, but comfortably furnished. 
The surrounding country was remarkable for scenic 
beauty and salubrity of climate, and was very rich in 
natural resources, the soil being remarkably fertile, 
and the rivers and adjoining woods affording the 
greatest abundance of fish and game. 

Knowing that any attempt to escape must be un- 
availing, and being well satisfied with the treatment 
which he received, Spencer determined to adapt him- 
self, as far as possible, to the circumstances in which 
he was placed, and await with patience a change for 
the better. 

Being naturally of an observant disposition, he 
found much to interest and instruct him in the 
modes of life, manners, and customs of the In- 
dians ; and not the least profitable and entertain- 
ing portion of his narrative is that in which he 
gives the results of his observations upon Indian 
domestic, social, and political life. Particularly in 
describing the Indian love of display in dress, the 



66 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



information which he gives is highly useful, and, in 
places, amusing. "All of the young and middle- 
aged among the women," says he, "are passion- 
ately fond of finery, — the young belles, particularly, 
having the tops of their moccasins curiously wrought 
with beads, ribands, and porcupine quills; the bor- 
ders of their leggins, and the bottoms and edges 
of their strouds, bound with ribands, edged with 
beads of various colors ; and frequently on their 
moccasins and their leggins small tufts of deer's- 
hair, dyed red, and confined in small pieces of 
tin, rattling as they walked, and forcibly reminding 
one of the tinkling ornaments worn by the Jewish 
women. 

"Nor is the fondness for show confined to the 
women; on the contrary, it is even stronger in the 
men, who, in addition to the ornaments worn by the 
women, wear large silver medals and gorgets on 
the breast, silver rings in the nose, and heavy silver 
rings in the ears, — the rims of which, being separ- 
ated from the cartilage by cutting, are weighed down 
two or three inches from the head. 

"A trifling circumstance may illustrate their ex- 
treme love of show. When captured, my rounda- 
bout and pantaloons were of plain summer wear, 
with covered mold buttons ; but my vest was of 
blue silk, double-breasted, with two rows of small 
plated sugar-loaf buttons, which, attracting their 
attention, the Indians had several times examined, 
supposing them to be silver. On the second night 
after leaving the Ohio, the companion of Wawpaw- 



spencer's captivity. 



67 



wawquaw, taking my vest, cut off both rows of but- 
tons, including a strip of two inches of silk on each 
side, and, carefully folding them up, put them in his 
bullet-pouch. Surprised at this conduct, and unable 
to form any idea of his motive in spoiling my vest, 
I thought he was actuated by a savage malignity 
merely, and felt not a little chagrined and indignant 
when, just before entering the first Indian village, 
I saw him fasten the spoils of my vest around his 
legs as garters, contrasting strangely with his greasy 
leathern leggins." 

Growing in favor with the old Indian woman, who 
now regarded him, if not with partiality, at least, 
with kindness, the lad, greatly improved in health 
and spirits, was taken by her, about a week after 
his arrival, to the Shawnee village, at the conflu- 
ence of the two streams below. Here, after paying 
a visit to his master, Wawpawwawquaw, by whom 
he was very kindly received, he was taken to the 
tent of the famous Indian chief Blue Jacket. This 
celebrated personage Spencer pronounces in his 
narrative to have been the most noble-looking In- 
dian that he ever saw. With a stature of about six 
feet ; a perfectly-proportioned body ; large, bright, 
and piercing eyes ; a nose of aquiline shape, and 
an open and intelligent countenance, he presented 
altogether an appearance which might have done 
no discredit to many of ''the superior race." He 
was very richly dressed, and wore on his shoulders 
a pair of gold epaulettes, and on his arms broad 
silver bracelets; while from his neck depended a 



68 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



massive silver gorget, with a medallion portrait of 
George III. 

It happened that on the day when the boy Spen- 
cer was taken into the presence of Blue Jacket, that 
chief had received a visit from some of the sachems 
of the neighboring villages. Among the visitors 
were a chief called The Snake, a plain, grave, and 
sage-appearing man, and with him the infamous rene- 
gade Simon Girty. The villainous cast of counte- 
nance of the latter, and the sinister, brutal, and 
forbidding expression which never was absent from 
his face, did not have the effect of removing the un- 
favorable opinion which the lad had already formed 
of the notorious bandit and renegade, the cowardly 
murderer of his own people, and the inventor of 
many of the cruel and diabolic devices in use among 
the savages for torturing unhappy victims. He was 
dressed in the Indian garb, but wore no ornaments or 
trappings. A silk handkerchief, which supplied the 
place of a hat, hid a ghastly wound on his forehead 
which had been inflicted by the Indian chief Brandt, 
with his tomahawk, in a drunken brawl, but which 
Girty (who now addressed himself to the youth, 
speaking with the greatest bitterness of the wrongs 
which had been done him, and boasting with the 
most savage exultation of the vengeance which he 
had wrought) asserted to be a saber-cut received at 
St. Clair's defeat from a "Yankee officer," whom, 
he said, "he had afterwards killed." Girty con- 
cluded his conversation with Spencer by telling him 
that he must never hope to see his home again, and 



spencer's captivity. 



69 



adding that, if he " should turn out to be a good 
hunter and a brave warrior, he might one day be 
a chief." 

After a short stay in the village, the old woman 
returned with her charge to the cabin. A few days 
later, she took Spencer across the river to the resi- 
dence of her daughter, the wife of Mr. Ironside, 
the trader. Here the boy found a number of traders' 
cabins, occupied chiefly by French and English, who 
carried on a large exchange business in merchandise, 
and also bargained with the Indians for skins and 
furs, for which they gave broaches, ear-rings, and 
other trifling ornaments, reaping immense profits. 

During his stay with the traders, the lad spent a 
large part of his time in conversation with Mr. 
George Ironside, who treated him with great kind- 
ness and friendship. He found his host a sociable 
and highly intelligent, as well as a humane and be- 
nevolent man, who listened to the story of his cap- 
tivity with marked attention and interest, and, when 
he had finished, gave him some useful advice and 
information. 

The following day was also spent at the trading 
station. On this day, to his great astonishment and 
gratification, he met, at the house of Mr. Ironside, a 
former fellow-townsman, William Moore by name, 
who had just returned from a journey to the rapids 
of the Maumee River. After a greeting of great 
heartiness on both sides, Moore prevailed upon his 
young friend to tell his story, which the boy accord- 
ingly did, his companion listening in the meantime 



yo 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



with great apparent approbation of the endurance 
and heroism shown by the youth. After Spencer 
had related the story of his adventures, Mr. Moore 
was persuaded to tell his ; and, as his experience is 
of a most interesting character, scarcely less so, in- 
deed, than that of his youthful friend, already tran- 
scribed for the diversion of our readers, we may be 
pardoned for writing it out in brief in the present 
narrative. 

William Moore was, perhaps, as fine a physical 
specimen of the sturdy pioneer as could be found 
at that time in the whole West. He possessed a 
stalwart frame, a constitution of iron firmness and 
endurance, an enormous muscular development and 
strength, and a commanding stature, being no less 
than six feet two inches in height. He combined 
all the qualities necessary or useful to the early set- 
tler of the Western wilds, being as bold and skillful 
in enterprise as he was strong and active in body, 
and having few rivals as a successful boatman and 
hunter. He was remembered by young Spencer as 
one of the most practised marksmen in that part of 
the country, who, at fifty steps, had often sent a 
rifle-ball to the center of the target, as well as a 
boatman of unexcelled skill, always pushing the first 
pole on the keel. In every manly sport, such as 
jumping, wrestling, boxing, etc., he had no equal in 
the village. He was fearless and lawless in enter- 
prise, but naturally good-humored and sociable as a 
companion ; and of no one could it be said more 



spencer's captivity. 



71 



accurately than of him, that he was a perfect speci- 
men of the Western pioneer at his best. 

One day, while hunting, about five miles north of 
Columbia, on the waters of Mill Creek, — the time 
was a few months previous to the canoe adventure 
related in this history, — Mr. Moore was suddenly 
surprised by five Indians, one of whom was Waw- 
pawwawquaw, and another Caw-ta-waw-waw-quaw, — 
Black Loon, — his brother. Moore had just shot a 
very fine doe, which, strapping over his shoulders, 
he was about to carry home. The Indians had dis- 
covered him some time previous, but, seeing his 
purpose, they prudently postponed their attack until 
he should be encumbered with his load, and so be 
unable to make his escape by flight. They sur- 
rounded him very cautiously, and, watching their 
chances, fired just at the opportune moment. One 
of their balls grazed his right shoulder-blade ; another 
passed through the carpus or compact bones of his 
left wrist, thus disabling one hand; the rest were 
without effect. Although carrying a load which a 
man of ordinary strength would have had great 
difficulty even in lifting, Mr. Moore sprang forward 
with great rapidity, and, incredible as it may seem, 
for the first hundred yards outran the light-footed 
Indians. He must, however, soon have sunk be- 
neath the weight of his burden, had he not con- 
trived to rid himself of it. Without slackening his 
speed, he placed his rifle on his left shoulder, sup- 
porting it with his wounded hand, and with the other 
drew his knife from his belt, and cut the lashings 



7 2 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



which bound the deer; and, his load falling to the 
ground, he was soon out of reach of all but two of 
his pursuers. 

The two foremost savages, seeing that the utmost 
exertion alone could enable them to secure him, 
now pressed forward with eagerness, and, as Moore 
reached the top of a ridge, had so nearly overtaken 
him, that one of them was only a rod or two in his 
rear. Chancing to look back at this moment, and 
seeing his danger, Moore gave a loud whoop, and, 
slapping his thigh in derision, bounded off with such 
speed that, had it not been for an unlucky accident, 
the Indians must needs have given up the pursuit as 
hopeless. Reaching the foot of a hill, he attempted 
to leap a small creek which crossed his path, but, 
miscalculating his distance, he jumped short of the 
opposite bank and fell into the water, and, by the 
time that he had regained his feet and recovered his 
rifle, Wawpawwawquaw, pistol in hand, was upon him. 

Before grappling with his enemy, the Indian twice 
aimed his pistol at him, but each time it missed fire. 
The compliment was returned by Mr. Moore, who 
leveled his rifle, but with no better success. He 
now attempted to knock down his adversary with the 
butt end of his gun, but, failing in this, he drew his 
knife, and was about to attack the savage, when the 
second Indian, — the brother of Wawpawwawquaw, — 
arrived and interfered. Further resistance was now 
useless, and Moore accordingly surrendered himself 
to Wawpawwawquaw, who, giving him a friendly grasp, 
received him as his prisoner. 



spencer's captivity. 



73 



During the march through the forest, Moore was 
well treated, although narrowly watched and securely 
guarded. Any attempt to escape must have been 
vain and attended with disastrous results, for his five 
captors were all stalwart and intrepid warriors, who 
well knew the strength and valor of their prisoner, 
and who consequently kept him under the strictest 
surveillance. 

Arriving, in a few days, at Blue Jacket's village, 
Moore, as a man and warrior, was compelled by the 
Indians to pass through the severe ordeal of running 
the gauntlet. On the day appointed for the trial, 
large numbers of men, women, and children flocked 
to the village from the surrounding country, and with 
clubs, switches, and other instruments of punishment, 
ranged themselves, to the number of about two hun- 
dred, in two rows, each ready and eager to act a part 
in the interesting ceremony. The chiefs and princi- 
pal warriors took their places at the heads of the 
lines, and, when every thing was ready, the prisoner, 
stripped to the waist and with his wrists tied to- 
gether, so as to prevent him from retaliating on his 
enemies, was led out and started on his run to the 
goal. 

The Indians, although they were aware of Moore's 
great strength and agility, evidently did not calculate 
on the possibility of his evading their blows and es- 
caping serious personal injury. But, improbable as 
it may seem, so rapidly did he pass through the lines, 
that the sticks and clubs of the Indians, instead of 
striking his body, fell clattering upon each other, and 



74 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



he reached the first goal almost without receiving a 
blow. His return was made with equal fleetness, and 
he would have entirely escaped bodily harm, had not 
the Indians, disappointed in thus losing the sport 
which they had anticipated, closed their ranks, and 
commenced to belabor him in the most merciless 
manner. Finding that his appeals to their sense of 
honor and justice were vain, Moore determined to 
demonstrate still more effectively his prowess and 
bodily superiority; and, attacking his enemies with 
his feet, head, and right fist, kicked some and over- 
turned and knocked down others, until those that 
remained were glad to fall back, and allow him to 
continue on his way to the goal in the usual man- 
ner. This he did amidst the shouts of the warriors, 
and, arriving at his destination, he was congratulated 
by his admiring enemies, and rewarded with the 
highest honors for the signal bravery which he had 
displayed. 

Moore's stay in the Indian village was attended 
with little incident of an unusual character. He was 
peaceable and friendly, and not only was unmolested, 
but even enjoyed freedoms and privileges not often 
granted to prisoners of war. He was a great favor- 
ite of Cooh-coo-cheeh, to whom he showed himself 
very attentive and obliging, for, being a skillful work- 
man, he made himself useful about her house, adding 
largely to its conveniences, and building a separate 
cabin for the accommodation of guests. 

Mr. Moore's narrative afforded his young friend 



WILLIAM MOORE RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 



spencer's captivity. 



75 



great entertainment, and the exchange of stories of 
adventure and of observations on the habits and 
character of the Indian tribes, employed a few days 
very enjoyably spent. 

About the middle of August, the interesting and 
peculiar ceremony of the "feast of green corn" was 
celebrated by the Indians of the neighboring villa- 
ges at the cabin of Cooh-coo-cheeh. This ceremony 
or festival, said to be similar to that of "first fruits" 
among the Jews, had been observed each year, from 
time immemorial, by the more wealthy and influential 
of the savages, to testify their gratitude to the Great 
Spirit ; and on these important occasions all of the 
prominent families were accustomed to assemble, 
spending the day in festivities, feasting principally 
on green corn, variously cooked, and amusing them- 
selves with games and athletic sports. 

After the usual salutations, the Indians seated 
themselves on the grass, and the pipe, according to 
custom, was passed several times around the circle. 
A venerable Indian then arose and addressed the 
company with great earnestness and solemnity. His 
discourse, as Mr. Ironside afterward informed young 
Spencer, was of the character of an anniversary ser- 
mon. He spoke of the favors conferred by the Great 
Spirit on his red children, the first and most honora- 
ble of the human race, and exhorted his hearers to 
give all praise and devotion to their benefactor. He 
bitterly reproached the young warriors for their pusil- 
lanimity in allowing the "pale faces" to encroach on 
the possessions of the Indian tribes, and declared 



7 6 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



that it was their duty to expel their enemies from 
their shores, — at least to drive them south of the 
Ohio. After the conclusion of this address, which 
was listened to with very deep attention, the Indians 
sprang to their feet, uttered a loud and prolonged 
yell, and then proceeded to engage in the sports of 
the day. 

The first of these was a foot-race over a straight 
course of one hundred yards. The principal com- 
petitors were Wawpawwawquaw, his two brothers, 
and another Indian, Captain Walker. Moore was 
not allowed to join, and with good reason, for, as 
he afterward declared, he would willingly have given 
any one of his adversaries twenty steps and beaten 
him in a hundred yards. The race was easily won 
by Wawpawwawquaw. 

Next followed a wrestling-match, in which Captain 
Walker was the victor. It was now proposed that 
Walker, who had shown great strength and address 
in his previous contests, should wrestle with 
Moore, who had thus far been an inactive spectator 
of the sports. To this proposal Walker very reluc- 
tantly gave his consent, and advanced slowly to meet 
his antagonist. After a few feints and sleights, such 
as are usually employed by practised wrestlers to try 
one another's strength, the struggle became very 
earnest, and for some time the result appeared to 
be doubtful. At length, however, Moore, taking ad- 
vantage of an unguarded movement of his opponent, 
tripped up his foot and threw him to the ground, 
although partially supporting him in his arms to 



spencer's captivity. 



77 



break the force of the fall. Another trial followed, 
in which Walker, stung by mortification, put forth all 
of his strength ; but this time his success was even 
less than before, for Moore, by a powerful effort, 
raised him by the hip, pitched him head over heels, 
and threw him with great violence. The Indians 
greeted Moore's victory with an admiring waugh! 
and, as it was now about noon, the sports were sus- 
pended for a time. 

In the feast which followed, provisions in the great- 
est variety and abundance were distributed, and the 
Indians, as was customary with them on all festal oc- 
casions, literally gorged themselves with food. After 
dinner, the warriors indulged for a time in the luxury 
of smoking, and each consumed a small measure of 
rum, when the festive games were resumed, and the 
rest of the day was passed in various sports and en- 
tertainments, followed in the evening by a drunken 
carouse. 

During his captivity, Spencer had occasion to ob- 
serve that* the Indians were immoderately fond of 
strong drink, regarding it as the highest enjoyment 
of life to pass hours and even whole days in drunken 
revels. When in their intoxicated moods, they were 
extremely dangerous, quarrelsome, and violent, at- 
tacking both friends and foes with murderous fury. 
"At such times," he says, "it is peculiarly dangerous 
for prisoners (many of whom fall a sacrifice to the 
brutal barbarity of drunken Indians) to encounter 
them." On one occasion he saw in a canoe the body 
of a white youth of fourteen, who had been killed, 



78 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



scalped, and mangled in the most horrible manner by 
his drunken master. He himself had several very- 
narrow escapes from death at the hands of intoxi- 
cated savages, being frequently obliged, on hearing 
the dreaded sound of some marauding savage ap- 
proaching the cabin, to spring from his bed in the 
middle of the night and take refuge behind the 
nearest log or tree, or throw himself in the snow. 
Once he very narrowly escaped being murdered in 
his bed. Black Loon, whom he had in some way 
offended, came into the cabin one night and in- 
quired for the boy, who, hearing him approaching, 
had seized a blanket and .run out of the house. 
Being told that his intended victim was absent, the 
Indian struck his knife several times through the 
skins on his bunk to satisfy himself of the truth of 
the statement, and then, being disappointed, and de- 
termined upon bloody revenge of some kind, seized 
a cat which lay sleeping on the floor and threw it in 
the fire, where he held it with his foot, — the poor 
animal squalling most piteously all the time. 

About the middle of October, 1792, the Indians 
learned that the whites were strengthening their 
forces on the Ohio, ostensibly in preparation for 
another attack on the villages. A large band of 
warriors was accordingly mustered under the com- 
mand of the chief Little Turtle, and about fifty of 
the best men in the Shawnee villages were sent to 
join it. Before setting out on their march, they 
halted at the cabin of Cooh-coo-cheeh, to consult 
her on their prospects of success. The answer was : 



spencer's captivity. 



79 



"Mechee! mechee ! mechee!" — many scalps, many 
prisoners, much plunder; and the Indians departed 
in full expectation of complete victory. In the course 
of a month they returned, their confidence in the 
prophetic powers of the old woman in no degree 
lessened ; for they had defeated a large body of 
Kentuckians near Fort St. Clair, taking many scalps, 
capturing many horses, and carrying off great quan- 
tities of baggage. 

As time wore on, the young prisoner, hearing 
nothing from home, grew more and more recon- 
ciled to his lot. And, determined to make the best 
of all around him, he gradually found that the life 
of an Indian captive, though one of constant trial 
and often of extreme danger, was not without its 
amenities. The labor required of him was light. 
He had little to do but carry water, gather wood for 
cooking, and attend to other little household mat- 
ters. Having plenty of leisure, he determined to 
render himself worthy of still greater consideration 
from his captors by gaining, if possible, a reputation 
for skill and daring in some of the manly exercises 
practised by the Indians. 

He, therefore, asked one of the warriors for a bow 
and arrows, which, being promptly given him, he pro- 
ceeded to put into use. In a short time he became 
very expert, frequently shooting birds and small 
animals, and on one occasion killing a very large 
rabbit, which he took home to the old woman, who 
received it with great pride and satisfaction. He 
was sometimes permitted to visit the trader's station 



8o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



on the other side of the river ; and here he was 
always received with marked kindness by Mr. Iron- 
side and the other residents. He also occasionally 
met visitors from other parts of the country and 
prisoners at large; and, as we shall see hereafter, 
the opportunities which he thus enjoyed resulted in 
the end to his no small personal advantage. 

One cold afternoon in December, he was sent by 
the old woman to cut and bring home an armful of 
wood. He took with him a sharp axe, and was ac- 
companied by the faithful dog belonging to Cooh- 
coo-cheeh, a large and very powerful animal. Hav- 
ing chopped up some small limbs, and tied the wood 
into a bundle, he was about to return, when his atten- 
tion was attracted by the dog, which was growling 
and barking furiously near a small tree. Picking up 
his axe, he went to the spot, and, looking into the 
tree, saw, on a limb, about sixteen feet from the 
ground, a large, grayish, cat-like animal crouched 
ready to spring. Ignorant of the nature of the 
animal, and not thinking of danger, he threw sev- 
eral sticks at it, one of which, striking it on the 
head, aroused its fury, and brought it to the ground. 
It was instantly seized by the dog, which battled 
with it for a few moments very courageously. But 
the animal fought so fiercely and savagely that it 
soon gained the advantage, and the dog, if left to 
itself, would ere long have been overpowered and 
slain. The boy now became conscious of the dan- 
ger in which he stood, and, grasping his axe, dealt 
the beast a powerful blow on the head, which luckily 




SPENCER'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE WILDCAT. 



spencer's captivity. 



81 



completely stunned it. To dispatch the animal was 
the work of but a moment, and Spencer carried it 
home in exultation. Reaching the house, he threw 
down his burden before Cooh-coo-cheeh, who, rais- 
ing her hands in astonishment, exclaimed: " Waugh 
haugh-h: poo-shun!" and then loaded him with 
praises, saying that he would one day become a 
great hunter, and, pointing to So-to-ne'-goo, told 
him that when he grew to be a man he should 
have her for his wife. The animal proved to be a 
large male wild-cat, measuring about four feet from 
his nose to the end of his tail, and being nearly 
equal in size and strength to a panther; and, had he 
encountered it alone, the boy, in spite of his courage, 
must inevitably have been killed. 

The winter passed without any occurrences worthy 
of special note. It was extremely cold, in December 
and January in particular, and the lad suffered a great 
deal from exposure, being frequently obliged to go 
out in the snow and frost in his bare feet, and with- 
out clothing sufficient to protect him from the biting 
cold, He continued to grow in favor with the old 
woman, who, however, though kind and considerate 
in the main, had some not very amiable traits of 
character. She was very quick-tempered, and at 
times extremely vicious, — and when in her angry 
moods did not scruple to inflict summary pun- 
ishment on the object of her wrath, often hurl- 
ing sticks of wood, pokers, and heavy articles of 
household furniture at any one who chanced to pro- 
voke her ; or, if these were not convenient, seizing 



82 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



a knife, axe, or other weapon and threatening venge- 
ance. 

One evening toward the last of February a stranger 
called at the cabin, and, taking Cooh-coo-cheeh aside, 
communicated to her a piece of intelligence which 
evidently gave her great concern, for she sat for a 
time brooding in silence. After a while she became 
more cheerful and talkative, and, inviting the boy to 
sit near her and her guest, commenced to converse 
with him about his home and parents. She asked 
him many questions, chiefly relating to the history 
and rank of his family. To these he replied that his 
ancestors had come from a famous island on the east- 
ern side of the great salt lake ; that one of them had 
emigrated to this country and settled near New York, 
and that he himself, with his beloved father and 
mother, had several years previous come to the great 
West, hoping to live in peace, and gain, by honorable 
labor, a comfortable support. 

When the boy had finished his narration, the old 
woman sat for a few moments silent and morose. 
Again resuming the conversation, she spoke in tones 
of deep melancholy of the misfortunes and wrongs 
of her own race. She told about the first landing 
of the pale faces from their monstrous white-winged 
canoes, — of their early settlements, prosperity, and 
wonderful growth in numbers and strength, and 
finally of their encroachments upon the Indian tribes, 
many of whom they exterminated. She said that the 
rightful owners of the soil had been gradually de- 
prived of their possessions, and were now being 



spencer's captivity. 



83 



crowded to the extreme North to perish on the great 
frozen lake; or to the distant West, where the rifles 
of the white men would soon push their scattered 
remnants into the deep sea. All of these misfort- 
unes she attributed to the anger of the Great Spirit, 
who had punished her race for their pusillanimity and 
crimes, and had passed the stern though righteous 
decree that the red men should ere long be destroyed 
from the face of the earth, and sleep in unknown and 
unhallowed graves. 

At the conclusion of this melancholy relation, the 
old woman 'changed her tone, and, with a very ani- 
mated countenance, proceeded to describe the pleas- 
ures in store for her race in the beautiful and bound- 
less hunting-grounds set apart by the Great Spirit 
as their future abode. These, she said, lay beyond 
the western ocean, and were ten times as large as 
the whole continent of America, extending to the 
farthest limits of the earth. Here there were no 
extremes of heat or cold, wet or drought ; no one 
suffered disease, and age and infirmity were un- 
known ; all fruits of the earth grew in abundance 
without needing cultivation, and the woods were 
filled with every description of game. Pointing to 
a large poplar which grew near the house, whose 
trunk was five or six feet in diameter, and whose 
stem rose eighty feet without a limb, she said that 
the trees in the country of which she spoke were 
twenty times its size, and that their branches seemed 
to penetrate the heavens, bearing company with the 
stars. Every thing in this favored region was en- 



8 4 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



dowed with eternal life and unfading beauty, and 
here the Indian was to be the sole possessor, undis- 
turbed by the cruel and avaricious white man. 

" No fiends torment ; no Christians thirst for gold." 

The Indian's wishes for the future, she said, were as 
simple as his expectations were ardent and confident. 

"To be contents his natural desire, 
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire, 
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company." 

The two listeners heard her glowing and eloquent 
description with great attention and intense admira- 
tion. The stranger, who was a Canadian French- 
man, gave expression to his wonder by frequent 
exclamations, but once or twice turned to the boy, * 
smiling incredulously, and remarking: "Ma foi! dat 
is grand country ! " 

On the next morning, much to his surprise, young 
Spencer was taken apart by Cooh-coo-cheeh, and in- 
formed by her that his captivity had come to an end, 
and that he was to depart immediately on his home 
journey. He was not long in ascertaining the causes 
which had led up to this earnestly wished-for result. 
While visiting the traders' station on the other side 
of the river, he had one day met a Mr. Wells, a 
prisoner-at-large among the Indians, who, becoming 
interested in him, had inquired very particularly con- 
cerning his family, and shortly afterward communi- 
cated the intelligence of his safety to the commanding 
officer at Post Vincennes. By him it was conveyed 
to Colonel Wilkinson, at Fort Washington, who lost 



spencer's captivity. 



85 



no time in transmitting it to Mr. Spencer. Negotia- 
tions for the ransom of the prisoner were at once 
entered into, and these resulted in the dispatch of a 
messenger, by the Governor of Upper Canada, with 
the necessary purchase money, to release him and 
convey him to his home. 

The preparations for the return journey were 
speedily made, and, full of joyful anticipation, the 
lad announced to his friends that he was ready to 
set out. He soon reproached himself, however, for 
his alacrity; for the old woman, gently taking both 
of his hands in hers, her voice trembling with emo- 
tion, and her eyes filled with tears, told him of the 
great pain which she felt at parting, since she had 
come to regard him almost as her own child. She 
spoke of the happiness of his friends, and particu- 
larly of the joy of his mother on his safe return/ and 
concluded by requesting him to come and see her 
when he grew to be a man. So-to-ne-goo was no less 
affected, sobbing loudly as she took his hand ; and the 
boy left his Indian friends with the grateful conviction 
that even in the wilderness the oppressed can gain an 
asylum, and that even among barbarians there can 
be found persons capable of generous and worthy 
emotions. 

Leaying the cabin, young Spencer crossed the river 
in the company of his French conductor to the traders' 
station. Here he was kindly received by his friend, 
Mr. Ironside, who congratulated him on his release, 
and then introduced him to Colonel Elliot, a British 
Indian agent, and to Mr. Sharp, a Detroit merchant. 



86 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



We have said that the purchase of the prisoner 
from the Indians was effected by Spencer's parents 
through the agency of the Governor of Upper 
Canada. This step was rendered necessary by 
reason of the fact that a deadly enmity existed 
between the Indians and the American settlers on 
the Ohio; whereas, the British in Canada were on 
very amicable terms with the savage tribes through- 
out this part of the country ; and consequently all en- 
gotiations were carried on through them. The ransom- 
money had therefore been sent by way of Canada; 
and, on its receipt, Colonel Elliot had been dis- 
patched from Detroit to bring the boy to that point. 

Elliot received his young charge very coolly, and 
took an early opportunity to inform him that, although 
he was now out of the hands of the Indians, he must 
by no means consider himself at liberty. This lan- 
guage gave the boy much concern, which was greatly 
heightened when Elliot told him plainly that he had 
not been set free, but had merely changed masters, 
being his (Elliot's) property; and that he must gov- 
ern his conduct accordino-lv. 

O J 

The wife of Mr. Ironside now invited the boy to 
breakfast; but Colonel Elliot objected, and directed 
him to go over to the cabin of James Girty (the 
brother of Simon Girty), where a meal would be 
provided. This he did ; and, sitting down to a table 
very bountifully provided, commenced to eat with 
great heartiness. He had hardly satisfied the first 
cravings of his appetite, when Girty came in, and, 
eying him sharply, said : 



spencer's captivity. 



87 



"So, my young Yankee, you're about to start for 
home." 

"Yes, sir; I hope so," the boy replied. 

"That," returned Girty, "will depend a great deal 
on your master, who, I think, intends to give you em- 
ployment for two or three years in his kitchen as a 
scullion." 

He then took a knife from his pocket, and, whetting 
it on a stone, said : 

" I see your ears are whole yet, but I am greatly 
• mistaken if you leave this place without the Indian 
ear-mark, in order that we may know you when we 
catch you again." 

Without waiting to learn whether this threat was 
meant in jest or earnest, Spencer sprang from the 
table, leaped out of the door, and took refuge in the 
house of Mr. Ironside. Here he found Elliot, who 
heard his complaint with a sardonic laugh, and a look 
of ineffable contempt, ordering him to get ready at 
once for the journey. 

Embarking on the Maumee, Elliot and Sharp pro- 
ceeded with their young companion in the direction of 
Detroit. The first part of the voyage was made with- 
out incident, and with little conversation. On the first 
night, the party slept at a W yandot village ; and about 
the middle of the afternoon of the next day, landing a 
few miles from the mouth of the Maumee, Elliot and 
Sharp, having first contracted with some Indians for 
a gallon of rum to take the boy the rest of the way, 
bade him adieu, and left him once more to the tender 
mercies of the savages. 



88 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



The Indians, eight or ten in number, immediately 
commenced to drink, carouse, and fight. Among 
them was a youth of about fourteen, who, seeing the 
boy standing quietly by a tent, came up to him, and 
proposed a wrestling-match. This challenge Spencer 
refused, on account of the great disparity in their 
years, size, and strength ; but, being urged, he at 
length consented. The result was more fortunate 
than he had expected ; for, being quite strong and 
active for one of his years, he proved more than a 
match for the young savage, and in a few seconds 
laid him sprawling on the ground. A second trial 
had the same issue ; and the Indian youth was obliged 
to beg piteously for quarter before his antagonist 
would permit him to rise from the ground. Mortified 
and enraged, the unskillful wrestler now commenced 
to blackguard his victor; and, seizing him by the hair, 
and passing his finger around his head, declared that 
he would scalp him. This treatment naturally ex- 
cited young Spencer's resentment, and, dealing the 
insolent youth a severe blow in the stomach, he com- 
pelled him to desist. Placing himself in an attitude 
of defense, he then gave his opponent to understand 
that any attack would be repaid with interest ; and, 
so well had he maintained his ground, that he was 
left unmolested. Presently, however, having turned 
around and walked a few steps with the intention of 
sitting down, he was assailed from behind by the cow- 
ardly Indian, who struck him a dangerous blow in the 
back with a sharp knife, intending to inflict a mor- 
tal wound. At this point an old Indian interfered; 



spencer's captivity. 



89 



and, stripping off the boy's shirt, carefully dressed 
his wound, which bled profusely, and proved to be an 
ugly one, though not of a serious nature, about an 
inch wide, and three inches deep. 

Early the next morning the boy was placed in a 
canoe, in charge of two old squaws, and started once 
more on his way to Detroit. Here he arrived on the 
evening of the 3d of March, and immediately after 
was delivered by the women to the commandant of 
the post, Colonel Richard England. 

During his stay in this place, — where he was 
obliged to remain until Lake Erie, then closed by 
ice, should open, — young Spencer enjoyed the kind- 
est and most hospitable treatment. He found Colonel 
England to be a man of great courtesy and very high 
worth of character, who manifested an interest in his 
welfare, and a solicitude for his personal comfort, 
which never passed out of Spencer's memory, and 
of which he speaks in his narrative in the most grate- 
ful and appreciative terms. Among the other officers 
of the garrison to whom he was greatly indebted, 
Mr. Spencer mentions Lieutenant Andre, a brother 
of the distinguished and unfortunate Major Andre of 
the Revolution. This man, Mr. Spencer says, was 
one of the handsomest that he ever saw ; and his 
character and bearing were no less worthy of admi- 
ration than his person, being honorable, courteous, 
and open. His wife, — who, as she informed the 
boy, was a near relative of his mother,— was equally 
kind and amiable, and from her the poor outcast re- 
ceived a thousand friendly offices, all of which he 



9Q 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



ever afterward held in the fondest and most grateful 
remembrance. 

At the end of about four weeks Spencer was in- 
formed that the navigation of the lake was again 
open, and that he might safely resume his home- 
ward journey. He took his leave from his kind 
friends with pain and regret, — emotions which were 
fully reciprocated, since he had endeared himself by his 
gentle and manly ways, and won not only the re- 
spect, but, indeed, the affection, of all with whom he 
had come in contact. 

The voyage, made on the sloop Felicity, was ex- 
tremely rough and even hazardous. The vessel, 
while in the middle of the lake, was overtaken by a 
tempest, and was at one time in imminent danger of 
wreck, being obliged to put back to port, and wait 
until the storm had passed. After a number of de- 
tentions, the ship arrived safely, on Wednesday, the 
13th of April, at Fort Erie. Here the captain intro- 
duced his young charge, with a letter from Colonel 
England, to the officer in command, by whom he was 
sent, several hours after, to Fort Chippewa, and thence 
to Queenstown and Fort Niagara. 

Shortly after his arrival at the last-named place, 
Spencer was taken to Newark, at that time the seat of 
the provincial government. Here he was courteously 
received by Governor Simcoe, who gave him in charge 
of Thomas Morris, Esq., a citizen of Canandaigua, 
New York, who had arrived at the town the day 
before, on his way home, and had kindly offered to 
take the boy with him. Horses were provided for 



spencer's captivity. 



91 



the first stage of the journey by Governor Simcoe. 
On reaching Niagara, Mr. Morris purchased two good 
animals and a stock of provisions ; and, taking the 
road throueh the wilderness, set out with his com- 
panion for Canandaigua, about one hundred miles 
distant, where he arrived after two days' hard riding. 
At this place the boy remained until about the middle 
of June. During his stay, he was sent to school, and 
all his expenses were paid by Mr. Morris, who proved 
himself to be one of the most disinterested and gen- 
erous of benefactors, — refusing afterward to receive 
the least remuneration for the heavy charge to which 
he had been put. 

To trace each step taken by the lad on the rest of 
his journey home would be both tiresome and profit- 
less to the reader. It will be sufficient to say that, 
after some delays, he arrived safely at New York, 
and was taken thence to his relatives in Elizabeth- 
town, New Jersey, where he arrived on the third day 
of July, 1793, just one year after his departure from 
his home in Columbia. 

The remainder of the story can be best told in the 
language of Spencer himself. We have chosen this 
means of bringing it to a termination, not only because 
it has been our aim to preserve, as far as possible, Mr. 
Spencer's own simple and beautiful forms of expres- 
sion, but also because the extract which we now take 

from his book serves to illustrate the ereat and Shin- 
es 

ing virtues of his character, and for its pathos and 
fervid piety, teaches a lesson of the highest interest 
and value to our young readers. 



92 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



"At Elizabethtown," says he, " I remained with my 
sister and brother-in-law, Mr. Halstead, for a little 
more than two years, a regular portion of all of 
which time was occupied by me at school; and on 
the 14th of September, 1795, being then fourteen 
years old, I set out on horseback, in company with 
a Mr. Crane and the late General Schenck, then on 
his first visit to the West, on my return home. We 
performed the journey to Pittsburgh in ten days; 
and there, putting our horses on a flat-boat, de- 
scended the Ohio, and arrived at Columbia about 
the middle of October. The joy of my parents on 
seeing me is more easily imagined than described ; 
with tears and embraces they welcomed my return. 
The day was spent in affectionate inquiries about 
the past; and devoutly and gratefully that evening, 
around our family altar, did we join in thanksgiving 
and praise, with my pious father, to the Father of 
mercies, for all his past unmerited goodness, — par- 
ticularly for my preservation and safe restoration to 
my home. 

" Nearly forty years have since passed away.* Our 
rivers teem with commerce ; their banks are covered 
with farms, with houses, villages, towns, and cities; 
the wilderness has been converted into fruitful fields ; 
temples to God are erected where once stood the 
Indian wigwam, and the praises of the Most High 
resound where formerly the screams of the panther 
or the yell of the savage only were heard. 1 O ! 



*The reader should bear in mind that "Spencer wrote his narrative about 1830, more 
than fifty years ago. 



spencer's captivity. 



93 



what hath God wrought? ' But where are the friends 
and companions of our youth? Our parents, where 
are they? Mine have long since 'slept with their 
fathers.' Wawpawwawquaw, who only a short time 
since, had for several years paid me an annual visit, 
has gone to the land of his fathers; and almost all 
of those of whom in my narrative I have spoken are 
no longer dwellers upon the earth. We, also, will 
soon end our earthly pilgrimage, and enter that 
' bourne whence no traveler returns/ May we, through 
divine grace, finish well our journey, that we may 
dwell where ' ever-during spring abides, and never- 
withering flowers ■ ; in that healthful clime where 
4 sickness, sorrow, pain, and death are felt and feared 
no more,' — where there is ' fullness of joy,' and where 
there are 'pleasures for evermore."' 



' — 



SPY-LIFE— ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



THE life of a scout is, under any circumstances, 
one of peculiar responsibility, and calls into ex- 
ercise not only the greatest daring, heroism, and 
physical endurance, but also the highest strategetic 
skill and tact. In civilized warfare, the spy is re- 
garded as one of the most valuable agents of mili- 
tary success, and only men of undoubted bravery 
and known discretion are detailed to perform scout- 
duty. A general may possess the most surpassing 
military genius, and the army which he commands 
may be unequaled in point of numbers, discipline, 
and equipment; but unless heroic and sagacious 
men are sent out to keep a constant watch on the 
enemy, and to report concerning his strength, move- 
ments, and the disposition of his forces, the leader 
will often make mistakes in judgment, and the army 
will be likely to gain very little in prestige. 

But, though the duties of the spy in civilized war- 
fare are of a most difficult and responsible character, 
they can bear no comparison, either for difficulty or 
responsibility, to his duties in a war carried on by a 
civilized nation with a semi-civilized or barbarous one. 
In a war of this kind, success is dependent almost 
entirely upon the character of the scouting service, 
since the chief object to be sought is to guard against 

(94) 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



95 



surprise, and since, if this object can be accomplished, 
victory is a necessary consequence; for a body of 
civilized troops can nearly always successfully resist 
an equal or larger body of barbarians in a fair con- 
test. In savage warfare, therefore, the safety or 
danger of a whole army depends greatly upon the 
service of the scout, who, if vigilant and active, can 
often avert an impending disaster; but who, if un- 
suited to the duties devolving upon him, is as fre- 
quently the indirect agent of irreparable calamity. 

Some of the most interesting pages of American 
history are those which are devoted to the adventures 
of the brave scouts whose daring and prowess have 
been potent instruments in extending our frontiers. 
The deeds of these valiant men have been often told, 
but they can not be too frequently repeated. It is 
our purpose to give, in the present narrative, a brief 
account of one of the earliest of these adventurers, 
whose history, though now little read, has every feat- 
ure of romantic interest, and whose performances 
should not be permitted to pass out of the remem- 
brance of his countrymen. 

Robert McClellan was the son of a pioneer farmer, 
who lived, at the time of the Revolution, in western 
Pennsylvania. Growing up to manhood in that wild 
and unsettled region, young McClellan was from his 
first years inured to all the hardships and dangers 
of back-woods life. Arriving at a suitable age, he 
chose the occupation of a pack-horseman, which he 
followed until a few years after the close of the war; 
when, led by a restless disposition, and an adventur- 



9 6 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



ous spirit, he emigrated to southern Ohio, at that 
time a part of the far West. 

Immediately upon his arrival, he applied to one 
of the military authorities commanding an important 
post on the Hocking River for employment in the 
capacity of a spy or ranger. His application was 
granted; and, early in the year 1790, he entered on 
the career of his choice, — a career which was des- 
tined to give him great credit and distinction. 

The life which he selected was one to which he 
was in every respect most admirably adapted. Pos- 
sessing a magnificent physique, powerful in build, 
straight as an arrow in form, rapid and agile in 
movement, and giant in strength, few men could 
stand against him in any bodily exercise or warlike 
contest. The most incredible stories are told of the 
feats of skill and strength which were accomplished 
by him almost without an effort; and yet, however 
fictitious these stories may seem, there can be no 
doubt that they are entirely truthful, since his re- 
markable athletic exploits were witnessed and at- 
tested by men whose veracity can not be questioned. 
One of his favorite feats was to leap over a tall 
horse ; and, on one occasion, while passing along a 
narrow sidewalk in Lexington, Kentucky, with the 
late well-known Matthew Heuston, finding his path 
obstructed by a yoke of oxen, he, instead of walking 
around them, as his companion did, leaped over both 
at a bound. While with the army in Greenville, he 
was challenged to a trial of feats of strength by a 
number of soldiers and teamsters ; but, not deigning 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



97 



a reply, either by way of acceptance or refusal, he 
walked off a few paces, took a short run, and jumped 
over a wagon with a covered top, about eight and one- 
half feet high. He was very fleet of foot, and in a 
long race never met his equal. All of these physical 
qualities now became eminently useful to him, and 
enabled him to perform actions which gave him an 
almost unrivaled renown among the pioneers of the 
West. 

Soon after his employment as an army spy, McClel- 
lan was sent, with a companion named White, on an 
important scouting expedition to the upper part of 
the Hocking Valley. Here, it had been learned, the 
Indians were gathering in great numbers with the in- 
tention of organizing to proceed against the frontier 
posts. The mission of the two spies was to ascer- 
tain, if possible, the strength of the Indians, and the 
intentions of their leaders. 

Providing themselves with a store of jerked veni- 
son and corn bread, and arming themselves with 
knives, tomahawks, and pistols, they took their rifles 
in their hands, and set out on their hazardous en- 
terprise. It was the last part of October, and the 
weather was very fine. Their course lay directly 
through the wilderness; and, with high spirits and 
undaunted resolution, they went forward, determined 
to succeed in this their first important undertaking, 
and gain the applause which brave men covet as the 
reward of heroism. 1 

A few days' march brought them within sight of 
the Indian encampment. This lay in a broad and 



9 8 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



beautiful valley, near the place where the town of 
Lancaster now stands. After making a reconnois- 
sance of the enemy, the spies proceeded to examine 
the ground, and select a place of concealment. 

At one end of the valley rose a remarkable promi- 
nence, terminating in a perpendicular cliff of rocks, 
several hundred feet in height. This cliff overlooked 
the plain below, and afforded not only a full view of 
the Indians, but also a position of great safety and 
strength, from which a few men could successfully 
resist a much larger body. Here McClellan and his 
companion concealed themselves, and set about to 
accomplish the objects of their mission. 

The Indians in the valley were very numerous, and 
the most extensive preparations were evidently being 
made for proceeding on some warlike expedition. 
Every day witnessed some new accession to the 
strength of the savages ; and, as each war-party 
arrived, terrible shouts were sent up, echoing and 
re-echoing in the distance, and enforcing upon the 
two listeners the conviction that their enterprise was 
indeed one of immense hazards. 

Small detachments were frequently sent out by the 
main body to hunt for game ; and some of these oc- 
casionally approached the place where the spies lay 
concealed. At such times, McClellan and his friend 
crept into fissures of the rock, and thus escaped dis- 
covery. On one or two occasions, however, they 
came very near being surprised, the savages coming 
within a few feet before they were aware of their 
presence: but, by alertness and agility, the spies sue- 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



99 



ceeded in saving themselves, and in keeping their 
enemies in ignorance. 

On account of their near proximity to so iarge a 
band of hostile warriors, McClellan and White did 
not dare either to shoot at game or kindle a fire. 
Their supply of food was, however, ample ; and, as 
the nights were not excessively cold, they did not suf- 
fer much from exposure, since they were both hardy 
frontiersmen, and had been accustomed through life 
to privations of all kinds. 

But, though their stock of provisions was large 
enough to satisfy every want, and though they did 
not suffer serious discomfort from the weather, they 
soon began to feel the pangs of extreme thirst. 
They had for a time drawn a sufficient supply of 
water from the hollows in the rocks, which were 
filled with rain-water that had recently fallen ; but 
this supply soon became exhausted, and a new one 
had to be sought. 

The emergency was one of great danger; but 
McClellan, who always insisted on being the fore- 
most in hazardous undertakings, proved equal to it. 
Slin^ine two canteens over his shoulders, he took 
his rifle in his hand, and cautiously descended the 
cliff. Skirting the declivity of the hill, he kept under 
cover of a thicket of hazel bushes which grew be- 
tween him and the Indian camp, and soon reached 
a beautiful grove (which he had noticed while recon- 
noitering the savages) ; and here he found a spring 
of clear, cold water. Filling his canteens, he returned 
with equal caution, and rejoined his companion. 



TOO 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



The next day, as a new supply was needed, White 
volunteered to perform the duty. He, also, was suc- 
cessful ; and it was now arranged that the canteens 
should be filled daily, the task devolving on the two 
men alternately. The third day the water was ob- 
tained, as before, without discovery ; but, on the 
fourth day, the good fortune which had previously 
attended the adventurers was suddenlv changed, and 
they were thrown into circumstances which afforded 
them as many opportunities as they could have wished 
for displaying their courage and audacity. 

White had reached the spring without being dis- 
covered, and had filled his canteens to the brim with 
the pure and grateful liquid. Fancying himself se- 
cure, he had seated himself in the shade, and was 
watching- the water as it bubbled from the earth and 
flowed away in a clear and beautiful stream. Sud- 
denly his practised ear caught the sound of light 
footsteps ; and, turning round, he saw two Indian 
women approaching. One of them, on discovering 
him, gave a loud whoop, and both turned and were 
about to fly, when White, instantly comprehending 
the situation, and concluding that his only recourse 
was to inflict a speedy and noiseless death, sprang 
forward, and, grasping them by the throat, thrust 
them quickly into the water. He soon succeeded in 
drowning one ; but the other, who was young and 
very active, resisted him powerfully. The struggle 
was, however, brief ; and he was about to submerge 
her, when, to his great surprise, she addressed him 
in English, begging for mercy. White relaxed his 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



IOI 



grasp and demanded an explanation, when the woman 
informed him that she was not an Indian, but a white 
captive, who had been taken prisoner about ten years 
previous. The Indians had killed all the members 
of her family except herself and a brother, whom 
they had led into captivity. Her brother had suc- 
ceeded in making his escape soon after his capture ; 
but she had been carried away, and was now so 
thoroughly naturalized as to be regarded by her 
masters as one of their own number. 

While the girl briefly told her story, White assured 
himself of the death of the old squaw; and then, 
directing his companion to- follow him, took his gun 
and quickly set out to return to the place where 
McClellan lay concealed. Half of the distance was 
passed, and W T hite congratulated himself that he 
should have ample time to reach the rock, apprise 
his friend of the danger in which they stood, and 
with him make good his retreat before the Indians 
should discover the dead body of the old squaw and 
raise the alarm. But, while pressing forward through 
the hazel thicket, he heard, to his great dismay, a 
shrill cry a short distance down the stream, followed 
by a number of whoops ; and, looking through the 
bushes, he saw that the Indians in the camp were in 
the greatest commotion, and that several armed 
parties were about to set out, evidently for the pur- 
pose of scouring the forest for their enemy. White 
now ordered the woman to follow as rapidly as pos- 
sible, and commenced to run at the top of his speed. 
They fortunately succeeded in gaining the cliff before 



102 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



any of the Indians had discovered them ; and. while 
the girl concealed herself, and took a survey of the 
ground, the men carefully examined their rifles, and 
laid their plans for defense. 

The position which they occupied had been chosen 
by them with especial reference to securing them- 
selves in case of an attack in force. The only means 
of reaching it in front was by a narrow pass, through 
which the Indians were obliged to proceed in single 
file. In the rear it could be commanded from a steep 
rock, which afforded a shelter to the attacking party, 
and from which they could fire without exposing them- 
selves, and this the spies knew to be the chief point 
of danger. Their only hope of successful resistance 
was that the Indians, in their eagerness to secure their 
prey, would not perceive the more important position, 
but would advance from the front, thus rushing into 
the trap that had been set for them. 

Soon the dark forms of the warriors were seen 
gliding through the trees and rocks, until every avail- 
able avenue of escape was cut off, and the position 
of the spies was completely surrounded. The per- 
pendicular rock in the rear was not, however, occu- 
pied as yet, and hope was not entirely abandoned. 
The Indians advanced with great caution, being ig- 
norant of the strength of their opponents, and not 
knowing their exact position ; but at length, guessing 
the place of retreat, they formed, and proceeded to 
dislodge their foes. 

The first Indian had no sooner exposed himself 
than he fell dead by a bullet from McClellan's rifle. 



SPY— LIFE. — -ROBERT McCLELT.AN. IO3 

The second and third savages each met with a like 
fate ; and, as the rest of the band advanced, the guns 
of the white men continued to deal destruction and 
death. Finding that they could not hope to retaliate 
successfully, the Indians at last gave up the unequal 
contest, and withdrew for a time to arrange new plans 
of offense. 

Their consultation was brief, for immediately after- 
ward McClellan saw a number of warriors skulking 
behind rocks and trees toward the steep rock which 
commanded the position from the rear. Hope sank 
within the brave spies as they now perceived that the 
key to their situation had at last been discovered, and 
that capture or death was inevitable. But, though all 
the odds seemed to be against them, they determined 
to resist even more stubbornly than before, believing 
the death of the soldier on the field to be far prefera- 
ble to the slow torture of the captive at the stake. 

Their resolution was made in silence; nor were they 
permitted to debate long. Keeping his eyes fixed 
steadfastly on the point of danger, McClellan saw a 
tall and powerful Indian preparing to spring from a 
bush so near to the rock that he could not fail to 
reach it in two or three bounds, when, clambering to 
its top, he would be able to have an unobstructed 
view of the place where his defenseless enemies lay 
concealed, and fire upon them. The distance inter- 
vening was eighty to one hundred yards, and only a 
few inches of the savage's body were exposed ; but 
McClellan determined to risk a shot and fell him, if 
possible. He therefore carefully adjusted the flint of 



104 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

his rifle, raised his gun, and took a sure aim. He 
pulled the trigger, and the hammer fell; but, in spite 
of his precautions, his gun deceived him. The flint, 
instead of firing the powder, had been broken in 
many pieces, and McClellan knew that before he 
could adjust a second the Indian would have reached 
a place where no aim of his could avail. He went to 
work, however, with the greatest deliberation, to pre- 
pare for one more trial. 

While he was thus engaged, McClellan heard a 
sharp report; and, looking up, could hardly believe 
his eyes when he saw the Indian, checked while in 
the midst of his leap by a bullet sent from some 
friendly, though unknown, rifle, turn a somersault in 
the air, and drop to the ground. McClellan's first 
thought was that the death-shot had been sent by his 
companion, White, but, turning to look at his friend, 
he saw him coolly at his post, watching the pass in 
front; and, on second thought, McClellan knew that 
the gun which was fired could not have been his, since 
the report came from some distance. The unfavora- 
ble issue of the Indian's attempt was followed by a 
terrible shout from his companions in the valley below, 
who not only were disappointed at his poor success, 
but who also deplored his loss, as he evidently was 
one of their favorite warriors. 

Before McClellan had time to conjecture on the 
nature of the mysterious agency which had inter- 
posed in their behalf, another Indian cautiously and 
swiftly advanced to the covert, and prepared to make 
the leap. He paused a second, and then jumped; 




THE WHITE SQUAW'S SHOT. 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



IO7 



but once more the friendly rifle was heard to sound, 
and the Indian fell headlong. The enemy now sus- 
pended the attack to counsel with one another upon 
the means which were to be employed, but evidently 
despairing of success that evening, as it was growing 
late, they determined to retire until the next morning. 

Left to themselves, the two spies now had time to 
look around, and devise means for the continuance 
of their defense on the following day ; or, if possible, 
for effecting their escape in the dark. While talking 
over the events of the day, they suddenly perceived 
that their new companion, the young girl, was miss- 
ing; and, concluding that she had left them and re- 
turned to the Indians, to whom, as they supposed, 
she would betray their position, and give information 
respecting their weakness, they bitterly reproached 
themselves for sparing her life. 

It was now earnestly debated whether, under the 
circumstances, it would be advisable to attempt to 
pass through the enemy's lines, or to continue to lie 
in concealment, depending upon the good fortune 
which had thus far attended them to give them the 
advantage in the contest of the next day. While dis- 
cussing this important question, the night came on; 
but the spies did not relax their vigilance, fearing that 
the Indians might take advantage of the darkness to 
steal upon them. 

A slight rustling in the bushes, and the tread of 
soft footsteps, soon confirmed their fears, and they 
were instantly on the alert. Immediately afterward 
a form was seen gliding toward them through the 



io8 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



darkness. The rifles were aimed, and McClellan was 
about to shoot, when a voice, which White recognized 
as that of the young white woman whom he had mer- 
cifully spared, addressed them in English, telling them 
not to be afraid. The suspicion which they had en- 
tertained of her treachery was now strengthened to 
certainty; for they were convinced that the Indians, 
availing themselves of her knowledge of their posi- 
tion, had commanded her to lead the way to die place 
where they were concealed, and that she, presuming 
upon her fancied familiarity with them, had consented 
to engage them in conversation, thus hoping to throw 
them off their guard. White, therefore, sternly com- 
manded her to desist, telling her that they were aware 
of her motive, and were prepared for the attack. This 
language evidently gave the girl great concern, and 
with a tremulous voice she assured them that their 
suspicions were unfounded, and earnestly requested 
them to permit her to rejoin them. Her words and 
motives seemed so sincere that her request was at last 
granted, and she came forward, carrying a gun in her 
hand. 

McClellan and White now listened to a very re- 
markable recital. The young woman whom they 
had reproached with treachery proved to be their 
deliverer. It was she who had fired the two shots 
which had saved them at their most perilous moment. 
Upon arriving with White at the spies' retreat, she 
had made a careful examination of the ground ; and, 
perceiving that the steep rock was the point from 
which the greatest danger was to be feared, had 



SPY-LIFE. — ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



I09 



determined, at any risk, to protect her friends from 
attack from this quarter. But, as she had no rifle, 
and ho means of securing one, she was for some time 
in doubt how to proceed. During the heat of the 
contest, she saw an Indian fall at some distance from 
his companions. Here, thought she, was her oppor- 
tunity. Stealing from her friends, who were too 
busily engaged to notice her movements, she crept 
to the place where the warrior lay, secured his gun 
and ammunition, and, cautiously making her way 
through the underbrush, gained the fatal rock, con- 
cealed herself in a position where she could see 
every hostile movement of the Indians, and waited 
until the critical moment before risking a fire. After 
killing the first Indian, she quickly re-charged her 
gun, and took a sure aim at the next one, with the 
result already told. The death of this second savage 
was to her a source of double satisfaction ; for it not 
only insured the present safety of her companions, 
but also afforded her high personal gratification. 
This Indian was the most warlike and bloodthirsty 
of the Shawnee tribe, and it was he who had led the 
band which had made the midnight attack on the dwell- 
ing of her parents, killed her mother and sister, and 
taken her and her brother captives. Thus, after ten 
years' time, during which she had vainly watched and 
prayed for an opportunity of retaliating, she was 
made the instrument of avenging justice, — so true 
is it that there is no human power that can evade the 
search and vigil "of him who treasures up a wrong." 
When the girl had related the part which she had 



no 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN, 



taken in the day's adventures, her companions hailed 
her as their preserver, and expressed their sorrow for 
casting suspicions so unjust on her conduct. After 
a brief consultation, it was decided that the only hope 
which they now had was of stealing away under cover 
of the darkness, passing the enemy's outposts, and 
gaining the forest. Slight as this hope was, they de- 
termined to base all their calculations upon it; and 
it was accordingly arranged that the girl, who was 
thoroughly familiar with the nature of the country, 
and therefore with the probable positions held by the 
Indian guards, should take the lead, while the men 
should follow, subject to her direction and orders. 
The darkness of the night and the inclemency of 
I the weather both favored their enterprise. During 
the afternoon the sky had been overcast, and now 
the rain came down in torrents, while the thunder 
rolled heavily, thus preventing those who were on 
watch from catching the sound of their retreating 
steps. 

The party had not gone more than one hundred 
yards when, immediately in front of them, they saw 
the dark form of an Indian sentinel. The girl gave 
a low whist, and the men sank silently to the ground. 
Their guide now went forward alone ; and, a moment 
afterward, McClellan and White heard her conversing 
in low tones with the Indian warrior. The conversa- 
tion ceased ; and the spies were about to rise, thinking 
that the girl, having succeeded in throwing the man 
off his guard, would instantly return, and give the 
order to proceed. They looked for her, however, 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



I I I 



in vain. Many minutes passed, and still the girl did 
not appear. The most ominous apprehensions now 
began to take possession of their minds, and the 
doubts which they had formerly entertained of her 
good faith returned with added force. These, how- 
ever, were once more removed ; for, at the end of 
about a quarter of an hour, their companion appeared, 
and gave the signal for them to rise and go forward. 
Her long absence had been occasioned by delays due 
to the difficulty which she had had in removing the 
Indian sentinels, two of whom stood directly in their 
route. 

Resuming their flight, they proceeded for about 
half a mile, in profound silence, without meeting 
any of their foes. Suddenly the furious barking of 
a dog close at hand gave them new cause of con- 
cern. The men raised and cocked their rifles, sup- 
posing that the trial had at length come, and that 
discovery was inevitable ; but their director whispered 
to them that, as long as they preserved absolute 
silence, and followed in her footsteps, they were 
safe, since they were now in the midst of the Indian 
village, where no watch had been set, and where,* 
unless some unforeseen accident should occur, their 
presence would not for a moment be suspected. 
The barking 0 f the doo- continued, and soon after- 
ward a squaw came out of one of the wigwams ; but, 
finding that it was the white eirl who had occasioned 
the disturbance, she returned without making any 
particular inquiries. In a short time the village was 
cleared, and the girl informed her friends that the 



112 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



greatest danger had been passed, and that they might 
proceed with more expedition. The forest was quickly 
gained; and the three adventurers, knowing that 
every thing depended upon haste, set out on a run, 
never stopping until noon of the next day, by which 
time they were confident that they had placed a suffi- 
cient distance between themselves and their pursuers. 
They reached their destination in safety ; and, as the 
event proved, their daring enterprise and successful 
escape so greatly discouraged and worried their ene- 
mies that the contemplated expedition was abandoned. 
The woman to whom the spies owed their delivery, 
and whom they now restored to her friends, was the 
sister of the brave Colonel Washburn, so distinguished 
in the early history of the West as the spy of Simon 
Kenton's famous " Bloody Kentuckians." 

The heroism and address which McClellan dis- 
played in this undertaking gave him an immediate 
reputation throughout the West, and obtained for 
him constant employment in a scouting capacity. 
In 1 79 1, he removed to Fort Washington, and, in 
the spring of the following year, he went to Fort 
Hamilton, where he engaged for a time in the com- 
missary department of the army; but, wearying of 
this peaceful occupation, he soon gave it up, and 
entered the scouting service in the army of General 
Wayne, at that time quartered at Fort Greenville, in 
preparation for a final campaign against the Indians. 

The company of spies to which McClellan now 
attached himself was commanded by the brave and 
famous Captain William Wells, whose familiarity with 



SPY-LIFE 



, ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



the character of the Indian tribes, and their modes 
of warfare, made him a most valuable ally. He had 
been taken prisoner by the savages when very young, 
and had been raised by them to manhood, thus gain- 
ing a thorough knowledge of the various warlike arts 
practised by them, and an acquaintance with several 
of their languages. The band of spies, of which he 
was the leader, numbered four besides himself; and 
of these Robert McClellan was recognized by him, 
as well as by his companions, to be the most efficient 
and reliable. Next to McClellan, in the estimation 
of Captain Wells, stood Henry Miller, who, with a 
younger brother named Christopher, had been led 
into captivity in early youth. Henry" made his es- 
cape when about twenty-four years old, and re- 
turned to his friends ; but Christopher had become 
so attached to the free and lawless life which he led 
with the Indians, that he could not be induced to 
give it up, but continued to reside with them after 
his brother's departure. 

A full history of the adventures of this daring band 
would require many pages ; and even a partial account 
of them would occupy a space entirely out of propor- 
tion to that which can fairly be given for the purpose 
in the present work. It will be sufficient to relate, 
for the entertainment of our readers, a few of the 
more interesting incidents connected with their scout- 
ing expeditions. 

In the month of June, 1 794, the company of Captain 
Wells received instructions to march into the forest, 
and bring into camp, in the course of a few days, an 



ii4 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Indian prisoner, in order that General Wayne might, 
by means of close questioning, gain some information 
concerning the intentions of the enemy. Taking with 
him Robert McClellan and Henry Miller, Wells pro- 
ceeded to execute the commands which he had re- 
ceived ; and, marching through the Indian country, 
soon reached the Auglaize River, and advanced into 
the territory of the Shawnees. 

The spies proceeded for some distance without per- 
ceiving any signs of the enemy ; but at last discovered, 
a short way ahead, a small cloud of smoke, rising, no 
doubt, from an Indian camp-fire. They dismounted, 
and, advancing cautiously, soon saw three Indians 
seated around a fire on an open spot of ground. Re- 
connoitering the position of the enemy, they found 
that it would be very difficult to approach within a 
sufficient distance to bring them in range; for a con- 
siderable space intervened in which there were no 
trees that would afford shelter. There was, however, 
one large fallen oak; and it was determined to creep 
along the trunk, conceal themselves in the branches, 
and then fire. 

The tree-top was gained, and the spies were now 
within seventy or eighty yards of the camp. The 
plan of attack was quickly laid. It was determined 
to kill two of the Indians, and take the other prisoner. 
The shooting was to be done by Wells and Miller ; 
while McClellan, who was the swiftest of foot and 
most agile, was to give chase to the third, bring him 
to bay, and hold him until his companions should ar- 
rive. 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



115 



The Indians were seated around the fire, smoking 
and laughing. One was on the right, another was on 
the left, and the third was in the center. The third 
man was pointed out by McClellan as the one who 
was to be spared ; and, without further ado, Wells 
and Miller raised their rifles to their shoulders, and, 
at the signal given by McClellan, fired. Without 
waiting to see the result, — for he knew that his 
friends never needed to shoot twice, — McClellan 
bounded off, tomahawk in hand, in pursuit of the 
fugitive. The Indian gave a loud cry, and ran down 
the river ; but, seeing that his enemy would soon 
head him, turned and made directly for the stream. 
This he reached at a point where a bluff, about 
twenty feet high, made a precipitous descent; and, 
without waiting to consider the consequences of the 
leap, plunged into the stream below, sinking, as he 
did so, up to his waist in the thick mud. Immedi- 
ately after, McClellan arrived, and he also jumped 
without hesitation into the river. 

Before he had time to recover an upright position, 
the Indian made a savage thrust at him with his 
knife, but this was parried; and, raising his toma- 
hawk, McClellan ordered his enemy to surrender, 
swearing that, in case of a refusal, he would instantly 
bury the weapon in his head. Incapable of further 
resistance, the Indian threw down his knife, and gave 
himself up ; and McClellan then quietly awaited the 
arrival of his two companions. 

Wells and Miller soon reached the bank ; and, 
dragging the captive from the mud, washed his body, 



n6 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



and bound him securely. To their great surprise, 
he proved to be a white man; and, upon a more nar- 
row examination, Miller was struck with amazement 
and mortification to see that he was his brother, 
Christopher, whom he had left about two years be- 
fore with the Indians. He was very morose and 
refused to speak, but, upon being called by his 
name, he instantly turned round; and, recognizing 
after a few moments the man who addressed him to 
be his brother Henry, became more communicative, 
and proceeded with his captors more cheerfully. 
Upon arriving at Fort Greenville, — at that time the 
station of the army, — he was placed in the guard- 
house. General Wayne, Captain Wells, and Henry 
Miller frequently interviewed him, soliciting him to 
leave his present disreputable life and join his country- 
men ; and, though he was at first indisposed to com- 
ply, he finally consented, joined Wells's company of 
rangers, and fought bravely and faithfully until the 
close of the Indian war. 

It will be remembered that Captain Wells, the 
leader of the band of spies of which McClellan was 
a member, had been taken prisoner by the Indians 
while a youth, and raised by them to manhood. 
Although a man of the most desperate character in 
enterprise or battle, possessing very few of the softer 
feelings, he still had many noble impulses, and on 
several occasions showed a forbearance and gener- 
osity which proved him to be as humane as he was 
courageous. 

While on one of his scouting expeditions on the 



SP Y-L IFE. ROBERT M c C LELLAN . 



"7 



banks of the river St. Mary, he discovered a family 
of Indians coming up the stream in a small canoe. 
Intending to kill the men of the party, and take the 
women and children prisoners, he ordered his com- 
panions to conceal themselves in the underbrush, 
and wait for the signal which he agreed' to give. 
He then went to the bank and hailed the Indians, 
requesting them to row to the shore. This they 
did without hesitation ; for Wells was dressed in 
Indian costume, and the party in the boat had no 
suspicion of the presence of an enemy in that part 
of the country. The canoe reached the shore; and 
the spies, who were lying in wait for them, raised 
their guns in momentary expectation of the precon- 
certed signal. But, instead of ordering his comrades 
to fire, Wells suddenly turned round and called to 
them to desist, swearing that the man who should 
attempt to injure any one of the party should in- 
stantly receive a ball through his head. This unex- 
pected address gave his companions great displeas- 
ure ; and, comino- forward, with their rifles still 
leveled, they demanded the meaning of his singular 
order. Wells then informed them that, the moment 
the boat struck the shore, he had discovered that its 
occupants were his Indian father and mother and 
their children. That father and mother, he said, 
had "fed him when he was hungry, clothed him 
when he was naked, and kindly nursed him when 
sick ; and in every respect were as kind and affec- 
tionate to him as they were to their own children." 
He added that though he could perform the bloodi- 



nS 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



est deeds without the slightest compunction of con- 
science, and shoot or tomahawk the most defense- 
less savage without mercy, he had not the heart to 
injure these poor creatures ; but, on the contrary, 
would at all times, and under all circumstances, pro- 
tect them with his life. His motives and conduct 
were commended by his companions, who threw down 
their guns ; and, going to the canoe, shook hands with 
the trembling Indians, assuring them that they had 
nothing to fear, and telling them that they might con- 
tinue on their journey unmolested. 

In all of their scouting excursions, Wells and his 
men were provided with the best horses which the 
army could afford, and were allowed by their superior 
officers the greatest possible liberty of action, being 
permitted to come and go at pleasure ; and, on their 
return to camp, being rewarded with the highest hon- 
ors and extended the greatest privileges which soldiers 
can enjoy. When on their hostile expeditions, they 
were always dressed and painted after the Indian 
fashion ; and, as each of them was thoroughly fami- 
liar with the Indian tongues and customs, they fre- 
quently passed, even among the shrewdest Indian 
warriors, as natives. They therefore had numerous 
opportunities of imposing upon their enemies, and 
thus gaining information of the most valuable char- 
acter. 

On one occasion, toward the close of General 
Wayne's memorable campaign against the Indians, 
they were dispatched with orders to bring in an In- 
dian prisoner. The army had arrived at the place 



SPY-LIFE. ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



II 9 



now known as Fort Defiance ; and the surrounding 
country was known to be filled with bands of war- 
riors, hastening to join the main body of Indians, 
which had gathered to oppose General Wayne's 
march. The expedition of the scouts was, there- 
fore, a peculiarly venturesome one, since, in hunting 
for stragglers, they w r ere in great danger of meeting 
with parties which would prove too strong for them. 

Taking their way down the Maumee River, they 
came to an Indian village, into which they rode boldly, 
pretending that they had just come from a British 
fort some distance above and were on their way to 
take a part in the fight which was now near at hand. 
They were painted and dressed in full style ; and, 
occasionally stopping to talk with the inhabitants, 
who came out to look at them, they passed along 
with the greatest apparent indifference, boasting and 
swaggering in true Indian fashion. No suspicion was 
aroused, and they soon left the town and continued 
on their way. 

Immediately after their departure from the village, 
they met an Indian man and woman returning on 
horseback from the hunt. Closing around them, they 
obliged them to surrender; and, securing their prison- 
ers, they set out on their return, highly elated with 
the success of their adventure. 

Riding rapidly in the direction of Fort Defiance, 
but keeping at the same time a sharp lookout for 
bands of hostile Indians, they came, shortly after 
dark, to a large encampment. The prisoners were 
now given to understand that they must preserve 



1 20 



THE BACK-WOODSMEX. 



the most implicit silence, or receive the punishment 
of. instant death. After making a partial circuit of 
the camp, the adventurers rode off in the homeward 
direction about half a mile, when they dismounted; 
and, taking their prisoners, gagged and bound them. 
A consultation on the course which they should 
pursue followed, when McClellan, who was loath to 
return without some enterprise of a more stirring 
nature, proposed that they should ride boldly into 
the midst of the Indians, provoke an altercation, 
shoot an Indian apiece, and then fly for their lives. 

This proposition was no sooner made than it was 
agreed to. The spies put spurs to their horses ; 
and, dashing into the camp, halted, laid their rifles 
across the pummels of their saddles, and engaged in 
friendly conversation with the Indian warriors, who 
were sitting peaceably around their fires smoking 
their pipes. McClellan and Wells asked them many 
questions regarding the supposed strength of General 
Wayne, his probable intentions, and the preparations 
which had been made to resist him ; to all of which 
the Indians replied very fully, volunteering much use- 
ful information. As the warriors became more com- 
municative, the spies grew more inquisitive and bois- 
terous ; and finally the suspicions of the enemy were 
awakened, and some of the braves arose and went 
for their rifles. At this point an old Indian, who 
had been watching them closely, was heard to re- 
mark, in an undertone, that he fancied that these 
men were bent on mischief. Instantly Captain Wells 
gave the signal for attack; each man leveled his gun, 




THE RANGERS RIDE INTO THE INDIAN* CAMP. 



SPY— LIFE. — ROBERT McCLELLAN. 



and four Indians fell dead. Lying down on the backs 
of their horses, the spies rode swiftly away, and were 
soon out of the light of the camp-fires. Their indis- 
cretion had, however, been so ereat, that some of 
the Indians were apprised of their purpose, and were 
on eiiard ; so that, before thev had time to get out 
of range, they were overtaken by a volley of bullets. 
McClellan received a serious wound from a ball which 
entered his body under the shoulder-blade and came 
out at the shoulder ; while Captain Wells was shot 
through the arm, and his wound was so sharp and 
painful that he was obliged to drop his rifle. The 
horse of one of the party (Mr. May; slipped on a 
smooth rock and fell with its rider, who, before he 
could rise, was overtaken by the Indians, carried to 
the camp, and the next day tied to a tree and shot 
dead. 

The three remaining spies made good their es- 
cape : and, reaching the place where they had left 
their prisoners, quickly unbound them, and pursued 
their retreat. The distance to Fort Defiance was 
over thirty miles ; and, as McClellan and Wells both 
suffered a great deal from their wounds, it was de- 
termined to dispatch the man who had escaped sound 
to head-quarters for a surgeon and guard. The mes- 
senger departed, arrived at the fort, and made known 
his want to General Wayne, who immediately granted 
the request, and sent a skillful surgeon with a body 
of dragoons to relieve his two favorite scouts. The 
wounds of McClellan and Wells were soon bandaged, 
the retreat was made in safety, and the prisoners were 



124 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



turned over to General Wayne, who questioned them 
narrowly, and obtained from them much valuable 
knowledge respecting the strength, position, and de- 
signs of the enemy. 

This incident occurred a short time before the de- 
cisive battle which put an end to the Indian struggle. 
With the crushing defeat of the savages by General 
Wayne, our account of the adventures of Wells and 
McClellan and their brave companions terminates; 
for, so complete was the victory gained by the whites, 
that Indian warfare in this part of the country be- 
came a thing of the past, and consequently the ad- 
venturous scouts, who had contributed so much to 
bring about the fortunate result, were obliged to 
seek new fields of enterprise. The company was 
disbanded, and the paths of the men who had com- 
posed it diverged. Captain Wells continued his 
adventurous life for a time, and then settled with 
his wife and family on a spot of ground, granted 
him by the government, in southern Indiana; but, 
falling" back into his former ways, he became for 
awhile an Indian agent : and finally, at the outbreak 
of the second war with Great Britain, was killed 
while bravely resisting, with a very inferior force, 
an Indian attack. The subsequent life of McClel- 
lan is so interesting, that the following short ac- 
count of it has been written for these pages. 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



ON the 1 2th of September, 1806, Captain Clarke, 
while descending the Missouri, on his return from 
the famous Lewis and Clarke expedition to the Pacific 
coast, met a large boat containing twelve men, who, 
as he learned, on questioning, them, were going up 
the river to trade with the Maha Indians. Standing 
in the middle of the craft he recognized the stalwart 
and intrepid ranger, Robert McClellan, with whom he 
had many years before, while a lieutenant in the army 
of General Wayne, formed a familiar acquaintance. 
Saluting his old friend, Clarke inquired of him regard- 
ing the news from the States; and, after the inter- 
change of a few words, both parties put to shore, and 
the two men spent the evening in relating the ex- 
periences which they had passed through since they 
had fought with Wayne in his memorable campaign. 

McClellan informed his friend that, after the dis- 
bandment of the scouting corps with which he had 
been connected, he had returned to civil life, and en- 
gaged for some years in mercantile occupations. 
Looking sharply to the main chance, he had, early in 
1 80 1, opened a trading station on the Ohio River, 
about twenty miles from its mouth, and, succeeding 
beyond expectation in his business, had determined 
to go farther West and continue it on a larger scale. 

8 .("5) 



126 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



To this end he had purchased a boat, stocked it with 
merchandise, and was now on his way up the Mis- 
souri, to once more begin a life which he hoped 
would this time prove a peaceable one with the 
Indians. 

In reply to McClellan's inquiries concerning the 
Western tribes, Clarke said that he would find some 
of them well disposed, but that, on the whole, they 
were a set of very rascally, deceitful, and turbulent 
fellows ; and he assured him that he would not have 
to penetrate far into the Western country before he 
should find plenty of room for adventure. Taking 
leave of his friend the next morning, Clarke continued 
on his homeward voyage, while McClellan, with his 
eleven companions, pushed forward on an enterprise 
w T hich, as the event proved, was to yield a series of 
the most stirring adventures, and from which he was 
destined never to return to his home. 

The trade with the Indians in this part of the coun- 
try was carried on chiefly by a number of wealthy 
Frenchmen of St. Louis, who naturally looked with 
jealousy on the enterprise of their young competitor, 
and did not scruple to throw every obstacle in his 
way, secretly encouraging the Indians to acts of hos- 
tility. But McClellan, knowing that his right was 
legally good, determined to maintain perfect inde- 
pendence, and return all opposition with interest, gov- 
erning his course by the maxim, eminently character- 
istic, to "strictly observe the letter of the law and 
fear no d — d rascals." 

In 1807, while on a trading expedition to the upper 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



I27 



tribes, in company with Mr. Ramsay Crooks, with 
whom he had formed a business partnership, an op- 
portunity offered for testing the resolution which he 
had adopted. While passing through a wild region 
of country, occupied by the warlike tribes of the 
Sioux, the voyagers suddenly heard a succession of 
terrific yells proceeding from the cliffs overhanging 
the bank of the river, and, looking up, they saw a 
multitude of hostile warriors, armed with tomahawks, 
bows and arrows, and other weapons, threatening 
opposition and menacing attack. McClellan's band 
was about forty strong, and to invite a conflict would 
therefore have been extremely unwise. A parley 
followed, and the result was that the traders were 
obliged to abandon their enterprise and land at a 
point lower down the stream. Here they were per- 
mitted to erect a station, and, leaving six or eight 
warriors to watch them, the main body of the Sioux 
returned to their village. They had no sooner de- 
parted than McClellan and Crooks again launched 
their canoe and set out for their original destination, 
determined not to be hindered in their object. By 
hard rowing they soon placed themselves beyond the 
reach of their savage enemies, and, arriving at the 
place which McClellan had chosen, built a traders' 
hut and opened traffic. This momentary hinderance to 
the success of their enterprise was due, as McClellan 
afterward learned, to the machinations of one Manual 
Lisa, a Spaniard, one of the "d — d rascals" whom 
he had determined not to fear; and, so incensed was 
he at the cowardly methods employed by his unscru- 



128 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



pulous rival, that McClellan declared that, if he ever 
met the villain, he would not hesitate to shoot him on 
the spot. 

Although the traders had succeeded in outgeneral- 
ing the Sioux, they were not destined to carry on 
their traffic unmolested. After conducting their 
trading busines for some years, with varying success, 
they were one day surprised by a large party of 
Sioux warriors, who, surrounding the cabin, disarmed 
the men, broke into the store-room, and appropriated 
to themselves the goods with which it was stocked. 
At the time of the attack McClellan was absent, 
hunting for deer. Returning about dusk, he found a 
number of the rascally fellows busily engaged in fin- 
ishing the work of plunder, and, walking in among 
them, he commanded them to desist and restore what 
they had wrongfully taken. The Indians, knowing it 
was very dangerous to provoke his fiery temper, dis- 
creetly complied, and returned every thing in their 
possession ; but, unfortunately, the value of what they 
turned over amounted to only a small part of that car- 
ried away, and McClellan found, on calculation, that 
he had sustained a loss of fully two thousand five 
hundred dollars. 

Sharing what he had left with his men, McClellan 
abandoned his business, once more launched his boat, 
and set out on his return to St. Louis, determining 
to give over his project of Indian trading, and en- 
gage in occupations in which he should have fewer 
"d — d rascals" to deal with. This determination 
was, however, soon surrendered. At the mouth of 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. I 29 

the Nodowa River McClellan found a party of ad- 
venturers, under the command of Wilson P. Hunt, 
who had come to the W est in the interest of the 
Astor American Fur Company; and, finding in this 
party his old friend Ramsay Crooks (with whom he 
had dissolved partnership some time previous), he 
was easily induced to join it, and, by the purchase 
of a few shares, obtain an interest in the profits of 
the enterprise. 

The expedition under the command of Mr. Hunt 
was one of two sent out by John Jacob Astor to trade 
with the Indians and explore and develop the great 
North-west. The destination of both expeditions was 
the mouth of the Columbia River. The first had 
been sent by sea, and was in charge of Captain Jona- 
than Thorn. The second, whose remarkable history 
while on the western plains we are now about to 
trace, left New York in July, 1810, proceeded west by 
way of Montreal, and, after some difficulties in the 
way of obtaining men to join it, reached St. Louis ; 
and, leaving that point on the 21st of October, 
started on its long and adventurous overland jour- 
ney. It reached the mouth of the Nodowa in Novem- 
ber, where it encamped for the winter, and where, as 
we have stated, it was joined by McClellan. In the 
following spring Mr. Hunt left for St. Louis to obtain 
recruits and an interpreter; and, on his return, the 
camp was broken up, and the party, consisting of 
about sixty persons, of whom forty were Canadian 
" voyageurs," a number hunters, and the rest men 
of various occupations, embarked in four boats (one 



I30 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

of which was very large, and mounted a swivel and 
two howitzers) for the Upper Missouri. 

As this period marks an important epoch in the life 
of Robert McClellan, it will be well, before resuming 
the narrative, to indicate in his own words his motives 
and feelings upon embarking in this memorable en- 
terprise. Writing to his brother William, under date 
of December 20, 18 10, he says: 

" Six days ago I arrived at this place from my 
establishment, which is two hundred miles above, on 
the Missouri. My mare is with you at Hamilton, 
having two colts. I wish you to give one to brother 
John, the other to your son James, and the mare to 
your wife. If I possessed any thing more except my 
gun, at present, I would throw it into the river, or 
give it away, as I intend to begin the world anew to- 
morrow." 

The party struck camp on the 21st of April, and, 
continuing their voyage, were favored for a few days 
with fine weather. Soon, however, the elements grew 
less auspicious ; the wind and current became ad- 
verse, and delays were frequent. As they ap- 
proached the country of the Sioux they proceeded 
with caution, although pushing forward with all possi- 
ble rapidity ; for they had been advised that the 
Spanish trader, Manual Lisa, who had so unscrupu- 
lously thrown obstacles in the path of McClellan and 
Crooks, was following, with a number of boats and a 
large force, close in their rear, with the intention of 
overtaking and passing them, hoping to gain the coun- 
try beyond and monopolize the trading business 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 1 3 I 

there. They were aware that Lisa was in league 
with the Sioux, and that, if possible, he would induce 
these tribes to oppose their progress ; and they there- 
fore kept a sharp lookout, expecting attack. 

Shortly after they reached the country of the Sioux 
they were overtaken by a messenger bearing a letter 
from Lisa, in which it was proposed that they should 
halt until his arrival, in order that the two expeditions 
might proceed through the hostile region together. 
An evasive answer was sent in reply, and Hunt 
and his companions pressed forward with all dis- 
patch. 

The encounter with the Indians, which they looked 
for with so much dread, came at last, and the worst 
fears of the voyagers were realized. On the morn- 
ing of the 3 ist of May, while preparing their breakfast, 
the alarm was suddenly sounded. Two Indians had 
been seen on a bluff directly ahead of them, and from 
their suspicious looks and mysterious movements it 
was supposed that they meant no good. Halting at 
this point the men breakfasted, although keeping a 
vigilant watch and being ready to assume the de- 
fensive at a moment's warning. After a short ab- 
sence the two Indians reappeared on the bank; and, 
gesticulating in a very excited manner, commenced to 
harangue the voyagers. Mr. Hunt permitted them 
to talk for awhile, apparently regarding them with in- 
difference, but finally taking with him his Indian inter- 
preter, he rowed to the shore in order to ascertain 
their meaning. Instantly one of the Indians ran 
swiftly away, but soon after reappeared on horseback, 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



riding at full speed, in a north-easterly direction, over 
the bluffs. The other Indian engaged in conversa- 
tion with Mr. Hunt, but from his frantic gestures, 
violent demeanor and abusive language, the men in 
the boats became convinced that very serious trouble 
was brewing. 

Hunt returned ; and, giving orders for each man to 
prepare instantly for combat, as an encounter with a 
vastly superior force of the Sioux was inevitable, com- 
manded that the boats should proceed. For some 
distance the view of the bluffs was obstructed by a 
large island ; but, immediately upon rounding the 
upper point of this island, the voyagers saw, to their 
terror and dismay, the whole north-east bank of the 
stream literally black with hostile savages, whose 
numbers were being constantly increased by multi- 
tudes pouring down from the high bluffs. Upon 
catching a glimpse of the boats, the warriors set up 
a prolonged yell ; and, crowding along the bank, 
stood with their weapons in readiness, awaiting the 
approach of their victims. 

Hunt now held a brief consultation with his offi- 
cers upon the plan to be adopted. Some were for 
returning, others proposed a halt, and a few thought 
the only recourse to be battle. The folly of at- 
tempting to escape was, however, soon evident to 
all ; for the current of the stream was so swift as to 
oblige the voyagers to keep close to the bank, which, 
being in places extremely steep, gave the Indians the 
advantage, enabling them to approach, fire a volley 
at the fugitives, and then retire without receiving in- 



ROBERT McCLEELAN ON THE PLAINS. 



jury. Preparations were, therefore, made for the 
battle which all supposed to be imminent. 

Under the direction of McClellan, Hunt, and 
Crooks, all the arms were put in complete order, 
and the boats were rowed slowly up the stream 
until they came nearly within range of the enemy. 
When in plain view of the Indians, the men in the 
large boat, containing the swivel and howitzers, 
arose, and very ceremoniously proceeded to load 
these formidable pieces. They first charged them 
with powder alone; and, applying the torch, fired 
them simultaneously. The tremendous report which 
followed evidently caused the Indians great conster- 
nation ; but when, instantly reloading the guns, and 
firing them a second time, the soldiers in the boat 
demonstrated their ability to pour volley after volley 
in swift succession into the midst of their enemies, 
the Indians were thrown into total confusion. The 
guns were charged once more, this time with powder 
and ball, and Hunt ordered the boats to advance. 

The Indians now abandoned all offensive prepara- 
tions ; and, putting away their weapons, spread their 
buffalo robes before them, indicating that they had 
no hostile intentions, and desired a parley. A num- 
ber of the chiefs came forward, descended to the 
edge of the river, and, sitting down on the sand, 
formed a part of a circle, and made preparations for 
kindling a fire, in order to light the pipe and smoke 
the calumet. The whites were invited by signs to 
land; and Hunt, taking with him McClellan and five 
others, rowed to the shore, first commanding bis men 



134 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

to still maintain an offensive attitude, and be ready 
to fire in case of treachery. The party was received 
in a friendly manner; and, after smoking the pipe, 
Mr. Hunt rose and addressed the chiefs through an 
interpreter, stating that he and his companions had 
come from the great salt lake in the east, and were 
on their way to see some of their brothers in the 
west, for whom they had been crying many moons ; 
that for want of their brothers their lives had become 
miserable; that they would rather die than not see 
their brothers, and that they would kill every man 
who should attempt to frustrate their design. He 
said that he had heard that his Indian brothers were 
bent on doing him and his friends harm, but that he 
did not wish to believe it. He concluded by ear- 
nestly expressing the great love which he felt for 
his red brethren ; and assured them that, when he 
had planned his journey, he had not been unmindful 
of their wants, but had provided himself with some 
presents for them, which he trusted they would re- 
ceive in token of his friendly feeling and intentions. 
A supply of tobacco and corn was then brought from 
the boats, and piled up on the shore near the " great 
chief." 

The offering was received, and the Indian chief, 
rising, said that he was in war with several tribes 
who lived a little further on, and that he had been 
afraid that his white brothers, if allowed to pro- 
ceed, might take guns and ammunition to them ; but, 
knowing now that his white brothers had no such in- 
tentions, he was sorry for what he and his braves had 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



135 



done. He said that he, too, had absent brothers 
whom he loved, and for whom he had been crying 
many moons; and that, out of consideration for the 
feelings of his white friends, he would permit them 
to continue on their way to the great western salt 
lake. He added, however, that his young men were 
not so considerate, and not mindful of the affection 
which he bore his white brothers, but were inclined 
to be wild, and might become troublesome, and so 
concluded by advising Mr. Hunt to encamp on the 
other side of the river. 

Observing the spirit rather than the letter of this 
recommendation, Hunt, re-embarking, gave the word 
to proceed, and the boats were rowed as swiftly as 
possible up the stream. During this day and the 
next one, the party saw no sign of danger; but, on 
the succeeding day, they once more were called 
upon to exercise every precaution, and prepare for 
sanguine and stubborn battle. 

Shortly after daybreak, two Indians were seen on 
the bluffs ; but these, instead of making violent dem- 
onstrations, commenced to throw their buffalo robes, 
and make signs of peace. The voyagers at once 
landed; and the Indians, running to meet them, 
went up to McClellan and Crooks, threw their arms 
around them, and embraced and caressed them in 
the most fulsome manner. These actions were not 
very much to the liking of the rough soldiers, par- 
ticularly when they recognized in the savages the 
chiefs who had led the xvar-party which had at- 
tempted to obstruct their progress several years 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



before ; and who, fearing retaliation, had now come 
to beg for clemency. 

The pipe of peace was smoked with the chiefs, 
and a few presents were given them. The Indians 
took their departure, and the boats were pushed for- 
ward. In a short time the tramp of horses was 
heard, and two Indians, riding up to the bank, hailed 
the party, and demanded, in a very loud tone and 
peremptory manner, that some gifts, such as had 
been received by their companions, should be pre- 
sented to them. This demand Mr. Hunt refused 
to comply with; and he ordered the Indians to be 
off, declaring that he would treat every one who 
came to him in so insolent a way as his enemy. 

This refusal and threat threw the Indians into 
an ungovernable rage ; and, after a few passionate 
exclamations and maledictions, they rode furiously 
off, vowing vengeance. 

Fearing that the savages would execute their 
threat, and bring a large force of warriors to at- 
tack them, it was determined to make every prep- 
aration for a conflict, and then advance cautiously 
in battle array. The men were armed, and the 
boats proceeded up the stream. Mr. Hunt, with 
McClellan and a few trusty companions, took the 
lead in the large boat, and rowed along one side 
of the river, while the remainder of the party fol- 
lowed in the canoes on the other. Their object 
in thus separating their forces was to be able to 
command a full view of the bluffs and distant hills, 
which could not be seen from one side alone. It 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. I 37 

was agreed that, as soon as Indians were discov- 
ered, a signal-gun should be fired, and the boats 
should instantly rejoin each other. 

While pulling around the lower end of a sand- 
bar, which he had followed up for some distance 
until his boat had run aground and he was obliged 
to retrace his course and steer into deeper water, 
Hunt heard the alarm sounded from one of the 
canoes ; and, looking toward the shore, saw a band 
of armed Indians running toward him, evidently with 
the purpose of cutting off his escape, and, after 
massacring him and the rest of the men in the 
boat, securing their craft, and then directing its 
guns against the remainder of the party. 

The men in the other three boats, seeing the dan- 
ger of their comrades, strained every effort to inter- 
cept the Indians in their design. But, on account 
of the delay caused Mr. Hunt by the sand-bar, 
they had got some distance in advance, and they 
knew that before they could reach the opposite bank 
the Indians would have gained the point, and rescue 
would be no longer possible. 

Meantime, the warriors had gathered in great 
force, and were waiting at a point on the shore 
for Hunt to come opposite them. The emergency 
seemed to be a fearful one ; but, just as Hunt was 
about to give the signal to fire, McClellan checked 
him, and told him with a smile that there was noth- 
ing to fear. While his comrades had been busily 
preparing for the combat, McClellan, coolly sur- 
veying the Indians, had discovered that, though they 



138 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



were thronging to the shore in great numbers, and 
were all completely armed, they showed no desire 
to fight, and evidently did not think of an encounter, 
but stood looking at the whites with an expression 
more of friendly expectation than of hostile design. 
The boat was accordingly rowed toward them; and, 
as soon as it came opposite the point, some of the 
Indians, throwing down their arms, jumped into the 
river and swam to it, seeking to shake hands with 
its occupants ; while the rest ran along the bank, 
and, making for -the other boats, crowded around 
them, offering the same friendly token. 

These Indians, it now appeared, belonged to the 
Arickara nation, one of those with which the Sioux 
were at war. Far from opposing the whites, they 
welcomed them with joy, knowing that they could 
secure from them, by trading, a quantity of firearms 
and ammunition. The voyagers encamped that 
night as the guests of the savages. Provisions 
were furnished, partly from the boats and partly 
from the stores of the war-party, the evening was 
devoted to feasting, the greatest hilarity prevailed; 
and, following the festivities, the whites were enter- 
tained until after midnight by the songs and dances 
of the warriors. 

The hope of carrying on a successful and lu- 
crative business among the tribes was, however, 
speedily dissipated. On the following morning an 
Indian came running into the camp, and communi- 
cated the very unwelcome information that a boat 
was coming up the river. This Mr. Hunt and his 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 141 



party knew to be one of the crafts of their rival, 
Manual Lisa, whose company they had previously 
declined, and whom they were very anxious, particu- 
larly at the present time, to avoid. 

The boat, on its arrival, proved to contain Mr. 
Lisa and a detachment of his party. He immedi- 
ately sought an interview with Hunt, who received 
him with coldness and distrust. During the inter- 
view, McClellan, who had not forgotten the outrage 
put upon him several years before by Lisa, stood 
regarding his enemy with very black looks, and 
several times felt impelled to carry his former 
threat into execution ; but, reflecting that it would 
not be wise to provoke, on account of a merely 
personal grievance, an outbreak in which both bands 
must inevitably become involved, he forebore to 
abide by his hostile intention, though still resolving 
to do his utmost to injure the credit and prevent the 
success of this unscrupulous knave. 

After a short conference between the leaders, a 
compromise was effected. It was agreed that the 
two parties should proceed together, and that each 
should have equal privileges with the other. They 
accordingly remained with the Arickara warriors 
until the arrival of the rest of Lisa's boats, when, 
taking again to their barks, they pushed on to the 
villages of the Arickara tribe. 

The ill-feeling which existed between the leaders 
was fully shared by the men of both parties, and 
several disputes arose. Lisa was very dogmatic 
and domineering, and, on one occasion, made him- 



142 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



self particularly offensive. He attempted to seduce 
the interpreter of Hunt's party, Pierre Dorion, 
threatening him with prosecution on account of an 
old whisky debt, and offering him inducements to 
join his expedition. This attempt naturally aroused 
the anger of Mr. Hunt and his companions. McClel- 
lan, in particular, was highly enraged ; and, taking 
up his gun, he addressed a few emphatic words to 
Lisa, swearing that, unless he conducted himself 
more decently, he would blow out his brains, and 
offering to fight him in single combat whenever he 
felt so disposed. The difficulty was bridged over, 
the voyage was continued, and, soon after, the 
Arickara town was reached, where both parties 
landed and engaged in traffic with the inhabit- 
ants. 

In accordance with a plan which had been formed, 
the Hunt party here abandoned their boats, and 
made preparations to perform the remainder of the 
journey overland. Their first care was to secure 
horses for the carriage of provisions, baggage, etc., 
and for the convenience of the men, who, if obliged 
to march on foot, must necessarily have had a slow 
and painful progress. But, though all the animals 
had been purchased which could be obtained, Mr. 
Hunt found that the number was insufficient, and 
he therefore was compelled to accept a proposition 
made by Lisa, who offered, in exchange for the 
large boat of the party and a stipulated quantity 
of supplies, to furnish a certain number of horses. 
In discharge of his agreement, Lisa set out with 



t 

ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 1 43 

Mr. Crooks and a part of Hunt's company to one 
of his posts, about one hundred and fifty miles up 
the river; and, after an absence of a fortnight, re- 
turned with the number of animals specified. 

The expedition had now proceeded one thousand 
four hundred and thirty miles from the mouth of the 
Missouri. Their journey thus far, though not unat- 
tended with trial and danger, had been accomplished 
in safety and with comparative comfort. No men 
had been lost, and the enterprise, on the whole, had 
been quite successful. The most venturesome part 
of the undertaking was now to be accomplished. 
An unknown, wild and hostile region of country, 
one thousand miles in extent, was to be traversed. 
Fatigues and dangers, such as always attend an 
expedition through an unexplored territory, were 
to be endured ; and though the men who composed 
the party were all brave and fearless, they looked 
forward to their enterprise as one which was pecu- 
liarly uninviting, and in* which their prospects of 
success were at least doubtful. 

Provided with eighty-two horses, nearly all of 
which were heavily loaded with Indian goods, bea- 
ver traps, ammunition, Indian corn, corn-meal, and 
other provisions and necessaries, the party, number- 
ing altogether sixty-two men, set out, on the 18th 
of July, 1 8 1 1 , on their long journey. Very few of 
the men were mounted ; for, in spite of all his efforts, 
Hunt had been barely able to procure enough horses 
to serve for the transportation of the effects of his 
companions and stores. 



144 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Pursuing a north-east course, which they afterward 
changed to almost a north-west, the adventurers 
traveled for a few days very slowly, owing to the 
sickness of a number of the men, and the exceed- 
ingly rocky nature of the ground. At the end of 
five days, they came to an encampment of Chey- 
enne Indians, and were received by them in a 
friendly manner, being invited to rest and recruit. 
This invitation was accepted. The travelers halted 
for about two weeks ; and then, with forty additional 
horses, which they had obtained by purchase from 
the Indians, they went forward on their journey, 
with spirits raised by the hospitable reception which 
they had met, and the favorable prospects which 
they now fancied were opening before them. 

Penetrating a broad prairie region, they crossed a 
number of small streams, and following the course of 
one of these, reached, in about a week's time, the foot 
of the formidable Big Horn Mountains. Here they 
fell in with a band of the Crow Indians, a quarrel- 
some, malicious and rascally lot of fellows. Although 
the Indians did not exceed the whites in number, and 
had no chance of standing against them, they were 
very aggressive and insulting, and it was all that the 
travelers could do, consistently with proper independ- 
ence and self-respect, to avoid a sanguinary termina- 
tion of their intercourse with them. As several of 
their horses had become lame, and as the men were 
in no plight to perform the journey on foot, McClel- 
lan proposed that they should effect an exchange 
with the Indians, if possible, for better-conditioned 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



145 



beasts. This was agreed to, and McClellan was 
deputed to negotiate. 

The Indians at first refused to entertain any prop- 
osition, thinking that, as the animals were too lame to 
go much further, the travelers would soon turn them 
loose, when they could capture and appropriate them 
without being obliged to give an equivalent. McClel- 
lan offered the savages some ammunition and pro- 
visions in addition, but they still refused to listen 
to terms. Finally, guessing their motives in declin- 
ing so advantageous a proposal, McClellan ordered 
that the whole number of animals which he wished 
them to take should be led out, and then, calling a 
party of men, he commanded them to load their guns, 
and, when he gave the word, to shoot the beasts on 
the spot. This stroke of policy had the desired 
effect; the Indians requested him to desist, and then- 
came to an agreement, giving him good horses in 
return for the poor ones, and for the supplies which 
had been offered in addition. 

Leaving these unfriendly and ill-disposed Indians, 
the travelers proceeded. Their course now lay 
through a rugged, mountainous country, extremely dif- 
ficult to pass through, and, in places, very dangerous. 
Many days were consumed in climbing the crags and 
passing down the precipitous descents of this dan- 
gerous range. Finally the plains of the Mad River 
were reached. This region was scarcely less inviting, 
for they found the country through which the stream 
flows very rough, and to proceed by water was out 
of the question, for the current was swift, and the 



146 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



river, at places, was scarcely eighty yards in width, 
forming a roaring torrent. 

Tracing the course of the Mad River, the travelers 
reached, in a few days, a broad stretch of compara- 
tively level country filled with great herds of buffalo. 
Encamping, they divided themselves into hunting 
parties, and spent about a week in shooting these 
animals and drying their meat, hoping to provide 
themselves with a quantity sufficient for the re- 
mainder of the journey. 

After breaking up their encampment they jour- 
neyed slowly and with difficulty. It was now nearly 
three months since they had left the Arickaras ; the 
fall season was far advanced, and the weather grew 
cold and very inclement. A number of horses had 
been lost on the way ; the remainder were, for want 
of forage, half-starved ; the men, obliged now, for the 
most part, to journey afoot, were weak and discour- 
aged, and the prospect was gloomy in the extreme. 
The greater part of the distance had been accom- 
plished, but the travelers knew that, before reaching 
their destination, the navigable waters of the Columbia 
River, they had a region of country to traverse which 
presented far greater obstacles to progress, and 
which was far more dangerous than any they had yet 
passed through. 

Foot-sore, exhausted and despairing, they arrived, 
on the 8th of October, at a post on the Mad River, 
which had been established a year previous by a 
Mr. Henry, but which had been abandoned by him 
early in the spring. Taking possession of the de- 





KOCKY MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



149 



serted log-huts which formed the post, they remained 
at this place for about ten days, and then, leaving 
their horses in charge of two Indians, they embarked 
in fifteen canoes which they had made, and started 
down Snake River, a stream formed by the junction 
of Mad River and Henry's Fork, hoping to accom- 
plish the greater part of the remaining distance by 
navigation. 

For a distance of about a hundred miles their voy- 
age was made with fair expedition. But soon, to 
their dismay, they found that the river, instead of 
being navigable throughout its course, formed numer- 
ous rapids, and that the voyage could not be pros- 
ecuted without imminent danger. But, rendered des- 
perate by the circumstances in which they were 
placed, they resolved to continue, thinking that they 
would before long pass the rapids and come to a 
point where the navigation would be safer and more 
convenient. 

Pursuing their resolution, they found that fortune 
was still against them. Discouragements and disas- 
ters followed close upon one another. As they pro- 
ceeded the rapids became more frequent, and where 
these were absent, the current was so swift as to 
render it extremely perilous to follow the stream. In 
shooting one of the rapids, a canoe struck a rock 
and was wrecked, one of the men being drowned. 
Another canoe, which they sought to pass down by 
means of a line, was swept away by the current, and 
three more stuck so fast among the rocks that they 
could not be extricated. Finally a whirling vortex, 



I 5° 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



forming a fearful abyss, brought the voyagers to a 
stand, and, exploring the stream beyond this for 
about forty miles, in the hope that it still might be 
found navigable, they discovered that, instead of a 
river, it was a raging torrent, and rushed in a chan- 
nel, only twenty or thirty yards wide, through preci- 
pices rising hundreds of feet, and that in places it 
descended in rapids and falls ten and twenty feet 
high. 

To continue the voyage was impossible, and, since 
they were now three hundred and fifty miles from Post 
Henry, to return for their horses was out of the ques- 
tion. The only alternative was, therefore, to strike 
through the wilderness on foot, steering a course for 
the Columbia River. 

The provisions of the travelers were by this time 
well-nigh exhausted, only five days' allowance re- 
maining of the large supply of buffalo meat which 
had been dried for the journey. Starvation was im- 
minent, and, as it was reasonable to suppose that the 
men would have greater chances of subsisting on the 
product of the wilderness if they proceeded in small 
detachments than if they advanced in a body, it was 
determined that the wisest step which could be taken 
was a division of the forces. 

Mr. Hunt, accordingly, selected a number of his 
bravest and most trustworthy men, and, dividing them 
into parties of from three to five each, placed them in 
charge of three of his associates in the expedition — 
Robert McClellan, Ramsay Crooks, and Donald 
McKenzie. The instructions which he gave were 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 1 5 1 

explicit. If they found that they could do no better, 
they were to march direct for the Columbia, and 
make the best of their way to Astoria. If, however, 
they chanced to fall in with friendly Indians within a 
reasonable distance, they were to secure horses and 
provisions, and return to the starting point, where 
Hunt agreed to wait with the main body until their 
arrival, or else until, from protracted absence, all 
reasonable hope of their return should be abandoned. 

The party of which Crooks was the leader, con- 
sisting of five men besides himself, set out up the 
river, intending to retrace the course which had been 
pursued, and return to Post Henry, where they were 
to secure the horses which had been left with the In- 
dians, obtain, if possible, a quantity of supplies, and 
return to Caldron Linn, the camp (so-named from the 
raging whirlpool in the river at this point), with all 
dispatch. The party, headed by McKenzie, consisted 
of five men, and, starting due north, made direct for 
the Columbia River. 

Robert McClellan and his party, composed of 
three brave and tried men, taking with them a small 
quantity of provisions, followed the course of the 
Snake River, having in view the same ultimate ob- 
ject as the band led by McKenzie. They journeyed 
for several days over rugged and barren mountains, 
finding no trace of life of any kind, and consequently 
failing in their purpose of obtaining relief for their 
companions. Indeed, so fruitless was their search 
that, after their scanty stock of supplies had become 
exhausted, they found barely enough on which to 



152 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



subsist; and, weary and dejected, they began to real- 
ize that starvation and death in the wilderness was 
their final destiny. 

Clambering over the high and craggy peaks of the 
mountains, they met, some days after their departure, 
the*band of McKenzie. This was, for the moment at 
least, a fortunate encounter, for McKenzie and his 
company had been more successful, having killed 
some game ; and they were able, therefore, to afford 
temporary relief to their half-famished comrades. 

By the unanimous voice of the men, McClellan 
was chosen leader of the party, and, under his com- 
mand, a northerly course was followed up Snake 
River. The heroism, endurance and fortitude pos- 
sessed by McClellan in so eminent a degree, now 
served a very useful purpose, for, in the perilous 
journey which was about to be undertaken, only the 
highest qualities of leadership could be of successful 
avail. 

As the party advanced, the difficulties of the enter- 
prise increased. The peaks and precipices grew 
steeper and more barren, and the defiles narrower and 
more dangerous. Although it was not yet the mid- 
dle of November, the adventurers were subjected, 
from the high altitude of the country, to the ex- 
tremes of cold, and snow-storms were frequent and 
very violent. Fuel was scarce, and they were often 
obliged to sleep at night in the snow, or take shelter 
in the crevices of the rocks, without a fire. 

Every one has read of the strange optical illusion 
occasionally experienced by sojourners on the Afri- 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



153 



can desert. A party of wayworn travelers, famished 
with hunger and perishing with thirst, wearily jour- 
neying over the burning sand, suddenly descry, in the 
distance, a beautiful green spot, shaded by palms and 
watered by flowing streams. They rush forward, 
overjoyed with the thought of at length finding relief 
from their sufferings. As they advance, they find 
that they had at first miscalculated the distance, for 
the inviting spot still appears far ahead. They pro- 
ceed, hoping to reach it, but their hope at length 
turns to despair, for they perceive that what at first 
seemed to be an oasis is only an illusion of the 
sight, finally disappearing in air as it came. 

Disappointment which is caused by the sudden 
extinction of sanguine, though ill-founded, hope is 
indeed great; but the shock is soon over, and resig- 
nation or renewed desire succeeds. Far different, 
however, is the result when, after a long-continued 
prospect of certain fruition and an unceasing effort to 
gain that which is constantly within sight, though never 
within reach, the conviction becomes inevitable that suc- 
cess is out of the question, and that the future offers 
nothing but an unending series of disappointments. 

Although McClellan and his party never departed 
far from the river, and could at any time see its roar- 
ing waters, they suffered from nothing more than 
thirst. So acute were the pangs which they endured 
that they were several times very near death; and, 
for many days, the only relief which they received 
was from water collected out of the hollows of the 
rocks. This was owing to the fact that the stream 



f 54 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



ran many hundreds of feet below them, and could not 
be approached, while the country was almost wholly 
devoid of brooks and springs. 

The torments which they suffered from hunger were 
equally unendurable ; and, as they came well-nigh 
perishing from thirst in a region where water flowed 
in abundance, so also they were left to hunger for 
food where game was not unfrequently seen in great 
plenty. On several occasions they observed large 
herds of buffalo on the opposite side of the river, and 
the distant tramp of these animals, mingling with the 
thunder of the torrent, combined to awaken in their 
minds a sensation of the profoundest despair. 

Being able to procure no game of any kind, and 
reduced at length to the verge of starvation, they cut 
several beaver-skins which they had with them into 
small pieces. These were broiled before the fire, 
and dealt out by McClellan in scanty allowances. 
Finally, even this wretched means of support failed, 
and, growing feebler and feebler, the men, after 
struggling vainly for several days through a raging 
snow-storm, during which time they tasted no food, 
lay down under" a rock to await the death which all 
knew to be speedily approaching. 

Three of the men were faint and emaciated, ap- 
parently past all hope of recovery, and nearly all the 
rest were so weak as to be scarcely able to move a 
limb. McClellan, whose sturdy frame and iron con- 
stitution had thus far borne him up, was the only one 
of the party who was at all suited to continue the 
march, and even he was in a most pitiable plight. 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



155 



Surrendering themselves to the fate which they 
regarded as inevitable, the men lay in the drifting 
snow with their useless weapons scattered around 
them. McClellan himself, who had thus far kept 
up his spirits, and encouraged his comrades to per- 
severe in the hope of soon finding relief, now gave 
up in despair ; and, offering his gun to one of his 
companions, requested him to aim it at his heart, 
and mercifully terminate his miserable existence. 

While the unfortunate travelers lay in this dis- 
tressing condition, lamenting that they had ever 
been born into a world in which trial and suffering 
seemed to be their only portion, McClellan, acci- 
dently looking up, saw, through the driving snow, 
an immense buffalo sheltering itself under a rock 
on the side of a hill. He instantly seized his rifle, 
and, carefully examining its priming, noiselessly crept 
up the hill. Making a circuitous route, he arrived, 
in a few moments, without being seen, within shoot- 
ing distance. He leveled his gun, while his compan- 
ions watched him from below in breathless sus- 
pense, knowing that the issue of the adventure was 
to them a matter of life and death. 

In a moment the report of the rifle was heard, 
and the buffalo fell dead. The success of McClel- 
lan's shot was greeted with a shout by his com- 
rades, who arose, and, throwing their hats in the 
air, and embracing each other, laughed and wept 
by turns. McClellan lost no time in rolling the 
carcass of the animal down the hill, for his com- 
panions were so feeble that they could not clamber 



156 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

over the rocks. The body was instantly cut to 
pieces, and the men were about to satisfy their 
appetites by devouring the. flesh raw, when McClel- 
lan sternly ordered them to forebear; and, kindling 
a fire, melted a quantity of snow in an iron pot. 
He then deliberately cut the flesh from the bones ; 
and, throwing the latter into the water, made a 
thick soup, which he gave to his companions in 
small quantities, telling them that starving men 
must exercise a control over their appetites, and 
informing them, besides, that, since they had been 
reduced to such straits, they must now take care 
to provide for the future, contenting themselves 
with scant repasts. 

This fortunate supply of food soon restored the 
spirits and strength of the men; and, after resting 
for a few days, they once more took up their march. 
By exercising the greatest self-denial, frequently 
going for whole days without eating a morsel, they 
succeeded in making their stock of provisions hold 
out during the rest of their passage through the 
mountains, which consumed twenty-one days. At 
the end of this time, they reached a small tributary 
of the Lewis Fork of the Columbia; and, following 
it to its mouth, obtained two canoes from a friendly 
tribe of Indians, and embarked. They reached As- 
toria early in January, 181 2, about six weeks before 
the arrival of Mr. Hunt, with the main body, and 
nearly four months before Mr. Crooks. 

We have said that, besides the expedition which 
had been sent overland under the command of Mr. 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



157 



Hunt, another one had been fitted up under the 
auspices of the Company, and dispatched by sea. 
This had been given in charge to Captain Thorn, 
of the vessel Tonquin. The voyage to the Pacific 
coast was made in safety ; but, before proceeding to 
Astoria, Captain Thorn determined to cruise along 
the shore, and trade with the natives. While coast- 
ing north of the Columbia River, he was induced by 
a tribe of treacherous Indians to enter the mouth 
of a small stream ; and here, as the water was very 
shallow, the vessel ran aground. The Indians then 
surrounded it in 'boats ; and, attacking it in great 
force, soon succeeded in boarding it, and overpower- 
ing the crew; and so complete was their success, 
that not one man escaped to tell the story of the 
massacre. 

On his arrival at Astoria, about the middle of 
February, 18 12, Mr. Hunt, learning of the disaster 
which had befallen Captain Thorn and his men, re- 
solved to send an expedition across the country 
with dispatches to John Jacob Astor, at New York, 
informing him of the state of affairs. 

Accordingly, on the 2 2d of March, 181 2, a party, 
under the command of Mr. John Reed, the clerk of 
the company, set out from Astoria on this important 
mission. Although McClellan was not requested to 
join it, since he was one of the partners in the 
enterprise, and since his services were needed 
more at the settlement, he resolved to accompany it. 
This resolution was due to a misunderstanding whi ch 
had arisen between himself and Hunt. Discontented 



158 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



with the comparative insignificance of his interest 
in the profits of the expedition, he had applied for 
a larger number of shares; but had been refused, on 
the very good ground that he had already purchased 
his quota, and could not reasonably expect an increase. 
McClellan, rash and self-willed, upon this refusal, in- 
considerately severed his connection with the com- 
pany, and united with Reed's party. 

That a man in his sober senses, just after having 
escaped, with so much difficulty, a death in the wil- 
derness, could, from so trivial a cause, voluntarily re- 
turn to an adventurous life, seems almost incredible. 
But McClellan never looked at consequences; and, 
in matters which concerned his personal welfare, was 
always controlled by a headstrong will, and acted from 
first impulses. 

The party, composed of three separate companies, 
one of which was to make the journey to the East, 
and the other two to perform certain missions of a 
comparatively easy character, and then to return, num- 
bered seventeen men. They embarked in canoes, 
and rowed up the Columbia River until they reached 
its falls, where they disembarked, and proceeded to 
carry their boats and goods by land until they should 
reach a point where it would be safe to again take 
the river. 

While preparing to make this transfer, they were 
suddenly surrounded by a war-party of about four 
hundred Indians. Fearing attack, they assumed a 
defensive stand; but the Indians, after pausing a 
moment to deliberate, instead of assailing them, 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. I 59 



came forward and assured them of their amicable in- 
tentions. 

The designs of the savages were soon discovered ; 
for, making very free of their friendly professions, they 
offered to carry the canoes, with the merchandise and 
supplies of the party, to the head of the falls. Rightly 
guessing that the object of the Indians, in making this 
proposal, was to have an opportunity to plunder, the 
offer was declined; but, fearing lest they should be 
put out of humor, Reed allowed them to carry the 
canoes, with the promise that, if they behaved them- 
selves, they should be permitted to transfer the goods 
the next morning. 

About the middle of the night, McClellan, deter- 
mined to thwart the designs of the thievish Indians, 
arose, and, awaking the men, proposed that they 
should take advantage of the night, and transfer 
their stores at once. As the moon was shining, they 
could easily see to make their way; and, as most of 
the Indians had gone to the other side, and had set 
no watch, there was little fear of discovery. 

They would probably have succeeded in their de- 
sign, and been on their way before their absence was 
discovered by the Indians, had not the day dawned 
before the transportation was effected. McClellan, 
who, with Mr. Reed, guarded the rear, was about to 
set out with the last loads, when an Indian discovered 
him, and sounded the alarm. In an instant several 
canoes, containing a hundred or more savages, pushed 
out from the opposite shore ; and crossing, leaped on 
the river bank, and rushed forward to secure the goods. 



l6o THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

McClellan raised his rifle, and coolly stood guard, when 
one of the Indians made a thrust at him with his knife, 
attempting, at the same time, to hood-wink him with a 
buffalo robe. But, springing back, McClellan avoided 
both the blow and the motion ; and, leveling his gun, 
shot him dead. Instantly wheeling, he discharged one 
of his pistols at an Indian who was about to shoot at 
him ; and his second enemy also fell to the ground. 

By this time the rest of the party had come up. 
Their arrival was very opportune ; for, though McClel- 
lan had thus far stood his ground, he fought against 
great odds, and would soon have been overpowered. 
His companion, John Reed, had been knocked sense- 
less by a war-club in the hands of a powerful Indian, 
who now stood over him, with his tomahawk raised, 
ready to bury it in his head. Seeing the danger of 
their leader, the men rushed forward, and one of them, 
leveling his rifle, fired just at the critical moment, fell- 
ing the savage, and saving the life of his intended 
victim. 

Following up their advantage, the men formed; and, 
with a shout, charged the Indians, who, thrown into 
confusion by the vigor of the attack, fled precipi- 
tately. 

Mr. Reed was now raised from the ground, and his 
wounds, which were very severe, were dressed. The 
voyage was resumed ; but, before they had proceeded 
far, it was found that, during the skirmish with the 
Indians, the tin case in which Reed carried the dis- 
patches to Mr. Astor had been lost. The object of 
the expedition was, therefore, frustrated ; and, after 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. l6l 

proceeding to the post of Oakinagin, some distance 
further on, to which they had received instructions to 
carry a quantity of supplies, they turned round and 
retraced their course, arriving safely, in a few days, at 
Astoria. 

As it was highly important that Mr. Astor should 
be informed of the result of the expedition sent out 
by him, Mr. Hunt, who acted as his representative, 
determined to send a second party with dispatches. 
He accordingly chose Mr. Robert Stuart, — a man of 
signal courage and daring, — to perform the mission ; 
and, selecting four brave and tried men to accompany 
him, dispatched the party, on the 25th of June, 181 2, 
on their long and perilous journey. 

Still adhering to his resolution to return home, 
Robert McClellan signified his desire to join the ex- 
pedition. His request was reluctantly granted; and, 
with his old comrade Ramsay Crooks, who also had 
become dissatisfied with Hunt's management, he 
bade adieu to his friends at Astoria, and embarked 
in the enterprise. 

Ascending the Columbia River, they arrived, in 
about a month, at the mouth of the Walla-Walla; 
and here they left their canoes, purchased horses, 
and set out through the wilderness in the direction 
of the Snake River, intending to visit the camp at 
Caldron Linn, and secure a quantity of merchandise 
and baggage which had been secreted among the 
rocks by Mr. Hunt the year before. 

Before reaching the rough and barren mountains, 

they had to pass through a parched and sandy region, 
10 



l62 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



totally devoid of vegetation, and unwatered by streams 
of any kind. The sun shone with a burning heat ; 
their march was slow, and, before they had traversed 
half of the distance, their supply of water became 
exhausted. Far in the distance rose the peaks of the 
mountains ; and the travelers knew that their trials, 
though already great, had in reality but just begun. 
But, though they suffered intensely, they still pushed 
forward with alacrity, determined to own no such 
word as failure. 

After journeying for twenty-two days, they reached 
in safety, though much exhausted, the banks of the 
Snake River. By following the route across the des- 
ert, they found that they had gained one considerable 
advantage. The distance had been greatly lessened, 
and some of the most formidable peaks of the mount- 
ains had been avoided ; and, being familiar with the 
nature of the country bordering the river, which they 
struck at a point where it was comparatively easy to 
follow, they were enabled to proceed with greater 
directness, and choose their ground at once without 
stopping to make explorations. 

Caldron Linn was reached on the 29th of August. 
To their disappointment, they found that most of the 
valuable merchandise, stores, and ammunition, which 
had been deposited by Mr. Hunt, had been found by 
the Indians and carried off. They secured the re- 
mainder, which consisted of a quantity of ammuni- 
tion, a few dry-goods, and a number of beaver-traps, 
and then resumed their march. 

It will be recollected that Mr. Hunt and his party 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 1 63 

had made the journey down the Snake River, as far 
as the camp at Caldron Linn, in canoes. Remember- 
ing the hardships which had attended that dangerous 
passage, the travelers determined to perform the 
return journey by land; and, hoping to make better 
progress, instead of following the course of the stream, 
they left its banks, and struck out through the mount- 
ains in the direction of Bear River. 

Their supplies had by this time given entirely out; 
the country afforded no game, and they were again 
reduced to the verge of starvation. Their only means 
of subsistence was by angling for fish in the streams, 
and this afforded them but a precarious existence. So 
great were their necessities, that they were obliged to 
scrape the fur off of some of the beaver, buffalo, and 
bear skins that they had in their packs and devour 
the hides. Occasionally they came across deserted 
Indian lodges, and in these they would sometimes 
find dogs and small quantities of dried salmon, which < 
they ate eagerly. Finally, after wandering aimlessly 
for many days, they reached a stream which they sup- 
posed to be Bear River; and, following it and its 
branches, they came, in the course of a few days, to 
a country which was more open, though still very 
barren and uninviting. 

To their great disgust and terror, the travelers now 
found that they had arrived in the region occupied by 
the hostile and rascally Crow Indians, One evening 
on their return to their camp from a fishing excursion, 
they perceived two or three Indians (whom McClellan 
easily recognized as belonging to the Crow tribe), 



164 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



lurking in the neighborhood, and the following day 
they received a visit from a large band of these ma- 
licious fellows. 

Remembering the unpleasant experience which 
they had had among the Crows on their march the 
year before, the travelers determined to maintain 
a strict watch and keep constantly on their guard. 
They succeeded in impressing the Indians with an 
idea of their strength, and thus preserving themselves 
from attack, for these Indians were as cowardly as 
they were insolent. In spite, however, of the watch- 
fulness of the travelers the thievish Crows got the 
better of them. They succeeded in pilfering a num- 
ber of small articles from the baggage, and finally, 
after following in the rear of the band for six days, 
entered the camp one night and stole and drove off 
all of the horses. 

Even with the best conveniences for traveling, their 
march must now necessarily have been attended with 
difficulty and privation. The distance to be accom- 
plished was two thousand miles ; the nature of the 
country was entirely unknown to them, and, since 
they had no stores, existence must have been 
precarious in the extreme. But the dangers of the 
journey, now that they had lost their horses, were 
increased tenfold. Obliged to travel on foot, their 
progress could not but be wretchedly slow ; and, as 
they had no means of transporting provisions in 
quantity, they knew they must depend for their sup* 
port upon the game which they should chance to kill 
from day to day. Even should they have a success- 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



iul hunt the prospects were that it would avail them 
only for the time being, for they were already bur- 
dened with ammunition and blankets, and could not 
carry much in addition. 

Keeping up their spirits as bravely as possible 
under the circumstances, the men went about to pre- 
pare for their long tramp. Selecting all that they 
needed from their packs, they carefully deposited the 
rest in caches, or holes dug in the ground, for the 
concealment of goods, and then shouldered their 
knapsacks. But, just as they were about to start, 
one of the men, returning from examining the traps 
which had been set the night before for beavers, re- 
ported that he had seen two Indians watching their 
movements from behind a rock, evidently hoping to 
discover where they were hiding their merchandise. 
At this information the goods were instantly un- 
earthed, thrown in a pile, and burned, for the travelers, 
bent on revenge of some kind, determined that, though 
the knavish Crows had gained the advantage of them 
in the matter of the horses, they should be disappointed 
in their scheme of securing the surplus baggage. 

Pursuing their march, they journeyed for about ten 
days with fair dispatch and comparative comfort. 
They had the good fortune to meet with success in 
hunting, for they managed to kill an elk or two and 
trap a beaver. Reaching the Mad River, they made 
part of the journey on rafts, and, leaving the stream 
on the 29th of September, they again took their way 
through the wilderness, skirting the southern slopes 
of the mountains. 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Once more good fortune changed to ill. Before 
they had gone far they found that they were on the 
borders of the country occupied by the Blackfeet In- 
dians, a tribe scarcely less dangerous than the Crows. 
A halt was called forthwith, a consultation was held, 
and after some discussion, it was decided, in spite of 
the remonstrances of McClellan, that instead of going 
round the mountains, thus placing themselves in 
danger of discovery by straggling parties of Indians, 
they should take the route directly over and across 
them. 

Thoroughly disgusted at what he regarded the 
pusillanimity of the men, who chose to climb the 
steep and rough peaks of the mountains rather than 
go fearlessly forward, McClellan very sullenly accom- 
panied his comrades. The ascent of the mountains 
was begun at once, and, to show their spirit and 
ardor, the travelers, most of whom were young in 
years, not more than half the age of McClellan, each 
mounted with alacrity, striving who should reach the 
top first. McClellan, who was in no mood for this 
friendly competition, soon fell behind. His spirit was 
one which could brook no rivalry, and, irritated be- 
yond measure, he suddenly stopped short, and, jerk- 
ing the beaver traps, which had been given him to 
carry, down the slope, he swore that he would go no 
further with such craven cowards. Mr. Stuart expos- 
tulated with him, and, handing him a pack of dried 
meat in place of his former burden, ordered him to go 
forward. McClellan disdainfully threw this on the 
ground, saying, derisively, that whoever needed it 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



167 



might take it up, but he, for his part, would depend 
for his support upon his rifle. His temper was now 
thoroughly aroused, and, with a few contemptuous 
words, he bade adieu, descended the mountain, and 
set off in the direction which he had originally pro- 
posed. 

His comrades stood looking after him a few mo- 
ments with emotions of admiration and wonder, not 
unmingled with a sense of deep mortification. Their 
first impulse was to follow, overtake, and accompany 
him, but prudential considerations prevailed; and, 
knowing that it was useless to attempt to persuade 
him to recall his resolution, they finally resumed the 
ascent of the mountain. Reaching the top they 
again turned round, and saw McClellan still pursuing 
his solitary journey, apparently unmindful of any thing 
but placing a distance between himself and the cow- 
ardly fellows who preferred climbing rocks to fight- 
ing Indians. A moment after they began the descent 
of the opposite side, and lost sight forever, as they 
thought, of the brave man who had so long been their 
comrade and fellow-sufferer. 

For eleven days the adventurers continued their 
weary progress through the mountains. Fearful 
lest the noise of their guns should inform their ene- 
mies of their presence, they did not venture to shoot 
game, but depended for food on their beaver-trap. 
Soon they reached a country wholly devoid of animal 
life of any kind. Not even a wolf was to be seen. 
Water and fuel were equally scarce, and the whole 
aspect was extremely discouraging and gloomy. The 



THE BACK-WOODSMEX. 



moccasins of the travelers were worn out, and they 
were obliged to make their way over the sharp rocks 
in their bare feet, which were swollen with bruises 
and bleeding with cruel gashes. The painful experi- 
ence of the previous fall and winter was now suffered 
over again : hunger and thirst, and the acutest bodily 
anguish, were once more endured, and once again 
death seemed to be the only relief which the future 
could offer. 

Suffering and distress had, by this time, overcome 
the dread of the Blackfeet, and the wanderers looked 
anxiously for traces of Indians, believing that even 
hostile barbarians could not treat them more inhos- 
pitably than the unfriendly wilderness. One evening, 
having halted for the night, they perceived a cloud 
of smoke at a distance, rising, evidently, from some 
camp-fire, and, in hopes of finding Indians who would 
give them relief, one of the party was dispatched to 
the supposed encampment to negotiate. 

The next morning, as he did not return, they went 
forward. After proceeding for some distance, they 
perceived a man approaching, and, on coming nearer, 
they found him to be their messenger of the night 
before. In answer to the eager inquiries of his com- 
rades, he replied that he indeed had news, although 
what he had to communicate would scarcely reassure 
them. The smoke, he said, had risen from the camp- 
fire, not of the Indians, but of their late companion, 
McClellan, who, after wandering for twelve days, 
almost without a morsel of food, had, at length, given 
up in despair and lain down to die. 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 1 69 

This intelligence for awhile drove all other thoughts 
from their minds, and they determined to go quickly 
to the place where their unfortunate friend lay, min- 
ister, if possible, to his necessities, and encourage 
him to once more take up his journey. They knew, 
two or three days before this, that they were on his 
trace, having found the embers of camp-fires which they 
judged to have been his, since they perceived tracks 
which were undoubtedly the prints of his feet; and 
since, on one occasion, they found the remains of a 
miserable wolf, which could not have been slain by 
Indians, as it had evidently provided some starving 
man with a supper. 

Reaching the place where McClellan lay, they 
found him stretched on the ground, his face hollow 
and deathly pale, and his once sturdy frame reduced 
almost to skin and bones. They spoke to him, and 
lifting his head, he feebly returned the salutation, say- 
ing that he was rejoiced to see them, and begging 
for food. He was told that they too, were starving, 
and that to relieve him was, therefore, out of the 
question at present ; but they urged him to rise and 
go with them, in order that all might live or die 
together. 

" It is of no use," said McClellan, shaking his 
head ; "we are all doomed to perish, and it is better 
that vfe should meet our fate here than that we 
should drop down, one by one, on the desert." 

The truth of this melancholy answer was felt by 
all, but his companions still spoke in a hopeful strain, 
and, lifting him from the ground, led him forward a 



170 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



few steps. Once on his feet, he became more reso- 
lute, and finally said, with determination, that they 
had but to lead and he would follow. Cheers and 
other demonstrations of enthusiasm greeted this char- 
acteristic reply. His comrades hailed him as a hero, 
and, sharing his rifle, knapsack, and other effects 
among them, they aided him forward, swearing that 
he should yet live to be, as he had been so many 
times before, their preserver. 

This day they traveled seventeen miles over a level, 
sandy plain without tasting any food. Encamping, 
they perceived, at a distance, a herd of antelope, and 
McClellan, seizing his rifle, ordered all the men who 
were able, to follow him. His will, however, was 
stronger than his capacity, for, after running a few 
yards, he fell fainting to the ground. Two or three 
of his companions, who were in better case, advanced, 
hoping to get a shot at the animals ; but, just as they 
arrived within range, the whole herd took sudden 
flight and ran off like the wind. 

This evening the party went to bed supperless. 
None of them had satisfied their hunger for forty- 
eight hours, and McClellan had eaten nothing, except 
the vile flesh of the wolf which he had killed, for 
many days. Rendered savage by want, one of the 
men, a Canadian, approached Mr. Stuart, the leader 
of the party, and, with a wild expression and a de- 
spairing voice, proposed that, as it was vain to hope 
for rescue, and as the only alternative was the cer- 
tain death of the whole party, one man should be 
killed in order that the rest might live. He expressed 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. T 7 1 

a willingness to cast lots in order to fix upon the one 
who should be sacrificed, whispering to Mr. Stuart 
that he, as the leader of the expedition, should be 
exempted. 

In reply to this demand, Stuart seized his rifle, and, 
pointing it at the Canadian, commanded him to be 
silent, threatening to blow out his brains in case he 
ever ventured to renew so shocking a proposition. 
The request was not repeated, but, had it been, to 
the credit of the rest of the party be it said, it would 
not, for a moment, have been seriously entertained, 
since no extremity could have justified, in their sight, 
recourse to means so barbarous, and so unworthy of 
men truly brave. 

The next day, fortune, so long adverse, once more 
became favorable. An old run-down buffalo bull was 
killed by one of the party, and thus the terrible wants 
of the travelers were for a time alleviated. 

The meat of the buffalo lasted them for several 
days. By the rarest good fortune, just as they had 
exhausted this supply, they arrived at the camp of a 
party of Snake Indians, a poor, though very hospita- 
ble and friendly tribe. Here they were given plenty 
to eat, and, after they had rested for a few days, they 
were sent on their way with a store of buffalo meat 
and other provisions. They also received a quantity 
of thick leather for moccasins, which they lost no time, 
in cutting up and making serviceable, for their feet 
were sorely blistered. Another prize which they ob- 
tained from the friendly Snakes was an old horse, 
which they put to use, loading it with their supplies. 



172 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Setting out once more, the travelers made all 
speed. It was now the latter part of October, snow 
commenced to fall, and the weather grew very chill. 
But, after the severe privations which they had so re- 
cently suffered, they thought nothing of the ills of 
their present lot, but went along in high spirits, 
laughing and shouting as they trudged through the 
snow. 

As they proceeded, they gradually came to a coun- 
try more inviting and better stocked with game. 
Although the bodies of the men had been severely 
shattered by fatigue and hunger, it did not take long 
to recruit. McClellan regained his strength and 
vigor in an astonishingly short time, and was soon 
able to hunt with the rest. 

On the second day of November the party en- 
camped at a beautiful spot on the Platte River; and, 
as the surrounding country abounded in game, they 
determined to erect a hut at this place and remain 
through the winter. Previous to carrying this pur- 
pose into execution, they set about to lay in provis- 
ions. They met with the most uncommon success. 
In two days' hunt they killed thirty-two buffaloes, 
and, shortly after, shot fifteen more. 

A comfortable cabin was built, and the travelers, 
well-provided with every thing necessary for the en- 
joyment of their new life, occupied their quarters for 
some weeks without any thing occurring to disturb 
their repose. 

One morning, however, they were rudely aroused 
from their dreams of security and comfort by a terrible 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. 



175 



yell, repeated several times, and, looking through the 
cracks between the logs of their habitation, they saw, 
to their great alarm, a number of Indian warriors, 
hideously painted and completely armed, emerging 
from behind trees and bushes, and approaching the 
hut, evidently with hostile intent. 

The men sprang for their weapons, and, quickly 
loading their rifles, stood , silently awaiting the or- 
ders of their leader. McClellan, who was now in 
his element, was not slow to grasp the situation, 
and, while he put together his rifle, which he had 
taken to pieces the evening before, proposed that the 
mud should be knocked out from between the logs, so 
as to afford a view of the enemy and enable the men 
to fire with precision. 

Although it was not thought that peaceable con- 
clusions could be reached, it was decided to hold a 
parley before firing. Accordingly Mr. Stuart, taking 
with him one companion, left the cabin, and, holding 
his gun in one hand, extended the other in token of 
peace. Contrary to his expectations an Indian stepped 
forward, grasped his hand and shook it heartily. 
The rest of the party, numbering about twenty, fol- 
lowed the example which he had set, and the whites 
were soon on friendly terms with their visitors. The 
savages were made welcome, and for two days were 
liberally feasted, when, receiving an abundance of 
supplies and a quantity of ammunition, they took 
their departure. 

Although the warriors conducted themselves with 
tolerable decency, their fierce appearance, as well as 



176 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



the ugly disposition which they manifested at times, 
were far from reassuring. Besides, they had commu- 
nicated a piece of information which caused the travel- 
ers renewed concern. They were on their way, they 
said, to make war against a neighboring band of 
Crows, who had attacked one of their villages dur- 
ing their absence and stolen large quantities of pro- 
visions and a number of horses. 

Thus exposed to attack from two dangerous tribes, 
the adventurers concluded that a longer stay in their 
quarters would be attended with great jeopardy, and 
they therefore decided to break up their encampment 
and proceed. Loading their pack-horse with all that 
it could carry, they set out with heavy hearts on the 
13th day of December, 18 12, proposing to march for 
a week or two, and then settle once more for the 
winter. 

After wandering, for about fourteen days, through 
deep snows and over bleak prairies, they encamped 
in a fine alluvial bottom on the Platte River, erected 
a cabin, laid in a stock of game, and prepared to 
enjoy themselves in this their second chosen habita- 
tion. Fortunately, they were now left undisturbed; 
and they led a peaceable and happy life during their 
stay in this pleasant place. 

On the 8th of March they struck camp, and em- 
barked in two canoes which they had hollowed from 
the trunks of trees. Provided with plenty of every 
thing needed for their journey, they dropped merrily 
down the stream for some distance; but it was not 
long before they found that continued navigation was 



ROBERT McCLELLAN ON THE PLAINS. I 7 7 



hopeless, since the river was, in places, extremely 
shallow, and was often obstructed by sand-bars. 
They accordingly landed, and went on foot, still ac- 
companied by their faithful pack-horse. 

The country through which they marched was re- 
markably fertile, and was filled with game in amazing 
variety and abundance. Flocks of wild-geese and 
waterfowl crowded every stream, or peopled the air, 
so as almost to darken the heavens, while immense 
herds of buffalo tramped over the boundless plains 
in such numbers that the ears of the travelers were 
constantly filled with the roar of their echoing hoofs. 
The adventurers remembered their former distress in 
the desolate wilderness; and, contrasting their pres- 
ent situation with their past, wondered at the myste- 
rious ways of Providence. 

After various adventures, they reached one of the 
villages of the Otto Indians, on the lower Platte. 
Here they met two white traders from St. Louis ; 
and from them they learned, for the first time, that 
war existed between the United States and Great 
Britain. At this point they were provided with a 
large canoe ; and, taking once more to the river, 
they went on their way. Their passage was easy 
and agreeable. The Missouri was reached in the 
course of a few days ; and, shortly afterward, the 
party arrived, in excellent health and spirits, at St. 
Louis. 

The remainder of Robert McClellan's life is soon 
told. Shortly after his return to St. Louis, he pur- 
chased a stock of goods, and opened a trading-station 



1 7 8 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



at a place named Cape Girardeau. In consequence 
of the great hardships to which he had been sub- 
jected, his health became seriously impaired; and, 
continuing to fail, he died, at his establishment, to- 
ward the close of the following year. Thus termin- 
ated the checkered career of this brave and famous 
adventurer. 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 



JOHN McCULLOUGH was born, about the year 
174S, in Newcastle County, Delaware. A short 
time before the beginning of the French and Indian 
War, his parents removed to one of the frontier set- 
tlements of Pennsylvania, where they purchased a tract 
of land, and settled with their family. By thrift and 
industry, they soon succeeded in placing themselves 
in easy circumstances, erecting a comfortable habita- 
tion, clearing the country around them, and rendering 
their ground cultivable and highly productive. 

The family had not occupied their new home long 
before the growing aggressiveness of the French and 
their Indian allies spread alarm and terror throughout 
the British settlements. Depredations became numer- 
ous, many lives were lost, and the whole country lay 
at the mercy of the savages. Alarmed for the safety 
of his family, Mr. McCullough determined to fly from 
so dangerous a neighborhood ; and accordingly re- 
moved, with his wife and children, to a part of the 
State which was more remote from the Indian country, 
and which, being more thickly settled, was regarded - 
as comparatively secure. 

In the spring of 1 756, the year after the memorable 

defeat of General Braddock, Mr. McCullough, learn- 
11 . (179) 



i8o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 



ing that the hostile spirit of the Indians had subsided 
somewhat, concluded that it was safe to return ; but 
he had no sooner reached his frontier home than the 
alarm was again spread, and he was once more com- 
pelled to flee. This time, he remained until the be- 
ginning of the harvest season, when, solicitous for the 
safety of his crops, he started home for the second 
time, taking with him his family and effects. But, 
fearing lest the Indians should learn of his return, 
and lie in wait for him, he did not think it prudent to 
take his family the whole distance ; but, leaving them 
in a cabin several miles from his home, went on alone 
to garner the crops, with the promise to return at the 
end of each day. 

On the 26th of July, 1756, Mr. McCullough, with 
his wife and eldest daughter, set out, early in the 
morning, for the farm, intending to pull flax. They 
were accompanied by a neighbor, Mr. John Allen, 
who was on his way to a fort at some distance, and 
who proposed to meet them in the evening, and re- 
turn with them. 

Mr. Allen went with the McCulloughs to their field; 
and, leaving them at work, continued his journey. He 
had gone about two miles, when he saw a man running 
toward him at break-neck speed from an adjoining 
wood; and, stopping his horse, he waited until he 
came up, and then asked what was the matter. 
When the man had time to recover his breath, he said 
that he had been working with a companion in the 
field, about a mile and a half from the McCullough 
farm, when a shot was fired by an Indian from a 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. I 8 1 

neighboring thicket. His companion fell dead; and 
he, also, would doubtless have been killed, had he not 
betaken himself to flight, and so escaped. 

Without waiting to learn more, Allen turned round ; 
and, taking a circuitous route, in order to avoid the 
Indians, whom he supposed to be in the neighbor- 
hood, set out for his home. Arriving at the dwelling 
temporarily occupied by the McCulloughs, he called 
to Mr. McCullough's little boy, John, who, with his 
younger brother, was playing in the road; and, in- 
forming him that a man had been killed a few hours 
before by the Indians, and that his father, mother, and 
sister had probably shared a like fate, told him to 
go immediately into the house, and then rode off to 
arouse the neighborhood. 

John McCullough was, at this time, about eight 
years old. For one so youthful, he possessed sin- 
gular resolution, courage, and discretion ; and, in- 
stead of following Mr. Allen's advice, and seeking 
his own safety, his thoughts were occupied with con- 
cern for his parents ; and he accordingly set his mind 
to work to devise some scheme for obtaining their 
rescue. The men of the surrounding country soon 
gathered in a body ; and it was determined that, since 
an Indian attack was imminent, they should proceed, 
with their families, to a fort about a mile distant, and 
there take shelter. Young McCullough endeavored 
in vain to induce them to march to the relief of his 
parents, or else to send a messenger to inform them 
of their danger. They told him that his father and 
mother had, by this time, doubtless, been murdered ; 



182 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



and concluded by instructing him to get ready and 
join them in their proposed march to the fort. 

Finding that no one would undertake to go to the 
place where his parents were at work and inform them 
of their peril, the boy resolved to perform the duty 
himself. He therefore went into the house, kissed 
his little sister, who lay sleeping in her bed, good- 
bye, barred the door; and, climbing out through the 
window, rejoined his brother, and started with him, 
unnoticed by any person, in the direction of his 
father's home. 

Running as fast as possible, the two boys soon 
came within sight of the house ; and, rejoiced at the 
thought of having succeeded in their design, com- 
menced to sing and halloo. But, when within fifty 
or sixty yards of the cabin, they were suddenly start- 
led by a rustling in the bushes on their right; and, 
casting a fearful glance in the direction from which 
the noise came, they almost sank to the ground in 
fright when they saw six Indians, hideously painted 
and grotesquely clad, gliding noiselessly toward them. 

To capture the boys was the work of but an in- 
stant; and, stifling their screams, the Indians started 
off with them at full speed. John, who was quite 
large and stout for his age, was made to keep pace 
with the party ; but his brother, a child of five years, 
was taken up and carried by one of the savages, 
v Skirting the field where John's parents were at 
work, the Indians ran swiftly and silently, occasion- 
ally stopping to listen. Soon they heard the voice 
of Mr. McCullough, at a distance, calling his children, 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 83 

whose screams he had heard, and whom he had gone 
to look for. After a moment's consultation among 
the Indians, two of them, cocking their rifles and 
stealing silently through the bushes, set off in the 
direction from which the voice was heard, while 
the other four continued their flight with renewed 
speed. 

The savages traveled with their prisoners all day, 
allowing them scarcely a moment for rest. Toward 
evening it commenced to rain. The water fell in 
torrents, but the Indians did not slacken their speed. 
Darkness came on, and still they proceeded without 
a halt ; and it was not until very late that they finally 
stopped and prepared for rest. The two boys spent 
a very unhappy and restless night, lying without a 
covering on the bare damp earth. 

The following day, the Indians proceeded with equal 
expedition, and did not stop even to take food. On 
the morning of the third day, they made a bountiful 
repast on some game which had been killed, — the 
first morsel which either the savages or their captives 
had eaten since they commenced their flight. While 
sitting round their fire, a loud whoop was heard in the 
valley below. The Indians arose, and listened intently. 
The cry was repeated ; and, apparently satisfied, the 
four savages set up an answering yell. In a few mo- 
ments, two warriors were seen approaching; and, on 
a nearer view, young McCullough recognized them 
as the Indians who, on hearing his father's call, had 
started off, as he feared at the time, in search of a 
new victim. 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



Closely scrutinizing these men, the boy saw, to his 
unspeakable horror, that one of them carried in his 
belt a scalp which he had taken, apparently, a day 
or two before. And, casting a fearful glance at this 
bloody token of savage barbarity, his horror changed 
to despair when he discovered that the hair, which 
was long, bushy, and very black, closely resembled 
that of his father. Wishing to assure himself beyond 
a doubt of the correctness of his suspicions, he ap- 
proached the Indian, and was about to examine the 
scalp more narrowly, when the savage, drawing his 
tomahawk from his belt, and uttering a fiendish yell, 
raised it in the air, and then let it fall swiftly, appar- 
ently with the intention of burying it in the boy's 
head. But, quickly changing his purpose, he checked 
the weapon, restored it to his belt, and then, clutching 
the youth by the hair, seized his knife, and passed its 
sharp point dexterously around the scalp. Paralyzed 
with terror, McCullough sank fainting to the ground. 
On reviving, his ears were greeted with a series of 
sharp, short yells ; and, venturing to look at the In- 
dians, he saw them rolling on the ground, convulsed 
with merriment, and giving utterance to the most ex- 
travagant bursts of laughter. 

The rude treatment which he had received from 
the facetious Indian did not encourage the boy to 
seek another opportunity of ascertaining whether his 
fears were well or ill-grounded. He was, however, 
fully persuaded that the scalp which the savage car- 
ried was that of his father ; and, thoroughly disheart- 
ened by this dreadful conviction, he gave up in despair 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 87 



fearing that a similar fate would soon be his own 
portion. 

Toward the close of this day, the party crossed a 
broad road, in sight of a waste house, and, proceed- 
ing about a quarter of a mile further on, they ate 
their supper, and encamped for the night. Immedi- 
ately after passing the road, the thought suddenly 
flashed across the mind of young McCullough that 
they were in a country occupied by white settlers; 
and that, if he could succeed in getting away, he 
might, by following the highway, soon find protectors 
and friends. 

Filled with the idea of fortunate escape and happy 
return, he waited until the Indians were asleep ; and 
then, gently awakening his brother, who lay by his 
side, whispered to him to rise and prepare for flight. 
But, to his great astonishment and disgust, the child 
refused to stir, saying that the Indians would cer- 
tainly discover and kill them both. Remonstrance 
and entreaty were vain; and the adventurous youth, 
finding that his brother would not be persuaded, re- 
solved to make the attempt alone. 

Lying perfectly silent for a few moments, he list- 
ened with breathless anxiety, seeking to ascertain 
whether the Indians were all sleeping, and revolving 
in his mind what plan he should adopt in case of de- 
tection. By the fitful light of the fire, he saw that 
the savages lay between him and the open space be- 
yond the camp, and that he should have to step over 
their bodies before he could begin his flight. They 
seemed to be in deep slumber, for they breathed 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



heavily, and lay absolutely motionless. The boy rose 
silently from the ground ; and, taking a survey of the 
sleeping men, was about to make a step forward, when 
one of the savages, rolling in his sleep, muttered a 
few unintelligible words in Indian. McCullough in- 
stantly sank to the ground. In a few moments, as 
the Indian did not stir, he again arose; and, advanc- 
ing cautiously, stepped over the form of one of his 
captors without awakening him. With the utmost 
silence, he continued to make his way, and finally 
arrived on open ground a few yards from the fire. 

Thinking that he had not been perceived, he fan- 
cied that all that now remained was to make the best 
of his escape ; but he had no sooner prepared to run, 
than one of the Indians, rising from the ground, 
sternly asked him, in broken English, where he was 
going? Although this unexpected address filled the 
boy with dismay, he was not unprepared for the emer- 
gency, and he returned an answer which quieted the 
suspicions of his interlocutor, who, saying merely, 
"Make haste; come, sleep,'* again lay down. The 
boy now knew that escape was hopeless ; and in a 
few moments he returned to the camp, and took his 
place on the ground next to his brother. 

The destination of the Indians was Fort Duquesne, 
the French head-quarters, situated on the present site 
of Pittsburgh. They traveled with great speed, and 
young McCullough was obliged to make the entire 
distance on foot. Besides suffering a great deal from 
privation and fatigue, he was several times sorely 
beaten by his cruel and malicious captors, who threat- 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 89 

ened him with death the instant that he showed any 
sign of giving up. 

A short time before they arrived at Fort Duquesne, 
the Indians pulled all of the hair out of the heads of 
the two boys, excepting a small tuft on their crowns, 
to which they tied several hawk's feathers ; and then, 
painting the faces of their captives in a most ugly and 
barbarous manner, they raised the war-halloo, and 
marched into the town. After the customary greet- 
ings had been exchanged, the two boys were taken 
to a French house, where they found a number of 
Indians sitting on the floor. They were received 
and treated with very little ceremony; for, immedi- 
ately on their entrance, one of the warriors, appar- 
ently a chief, took the younger lad by the hand, and, 
leading him to the door, gave him to a Frenchman, 
who stood waiting. He next turned to John McCul- 
lough, and, after a few words, led him to an Indian 
who sat smoking on the hearth ; and, presenting the 
boy to him, made a brief address, evidently by way 
of instruction. Though McCullough could not un- 
derstand a word that was spoken, he knew that he 
was now to regard the warrior as his master, and he 
therefore sat quietly down by his side, waiting for him 
to speak. 

After the chief had finished his exhortation, the 
Indian, taking the youth between his legs, told him 
in English that he was glad to see him. He saluted 
him as his brother, saying that the Indian braves had 
several times before brought young white boys into 
camp ; and that about a year since a white youth had 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



been taken by them, and had been given to him as his 
brother. But, he added, his young white brother had 
not behaved himself properly, — he evidently did not 
love his red brethren, and his conduct was so bad 
that it had been found necessary to kill him. The 
Indian said that he was very sorry; and he expressed 
the hope that his new brother would be more tracta- 
ble, and, instead of being killed while young, would 
some day become a hunter and brave. 

This savage was very communicative, and appeared 
to be more intelligent and better disposed than most 
of his tribe. He said that he had lived for many years 
among the whites, having, indeed, been raised by them, 
and taught to read and write. He spoke tolerable 
English, and could repeat the letters of the alphabet, 
although, farther than this, his attainments were not 
very extensive. 

After a brief conversation the Indian took the 
youth by the hand and led him out of the house to- 
ward the river. Embarking in a canoe, they crossed 
the stream to a point where a number of Indians 
were encamped. Here, while his master made merry 
with the rest of his people, young McCullough was 
given to two youths, who, stepping into the canoe, 
and placing him between them, paddled about forty 
yards from the shore. They then stopped, and, seiz- 
ing the boy by the wrists, plunged him into the 
water, where they held him until he was almost 
strangled. Drawing him up at the end of a minute 
or two, they permitted him to breathe, and then re- 
peated the process a number of times. Thinking 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN MCCULLOUGH. I9I 

that their object was to drown him, he pleaded so 
piteously for mercy that one of the youths finally 
quieted his fears by saying: "Me no killim ; me 
washim," — an assurance which he followed up by 
again plunging the boy over his head in the water. 
When the ablution was completed, the boat was 
rowed to the shore, and young McCullough was 
given a new ruffled shirt and a pair of trowsers, and 
informed that he was now to appear and act as an 
Indian. A day or two after, the young man, whom he 
regarded as his master, bade him adieu, and he was 
taken to a town called Shenango, at some distance, 
and placed in an Indian family. 

He now found that the savage who had addressed 
him as his brother, and given him so much good ad- 
vice, was a nephew of the old man whom he was 
henceforth to regard as his Indian father, and conse- 
quently that the relationship which he was to bear 
him was, indeed, that of a brother. 

The first few months of his life at Shenango were 
passed by the boy with little incident. His new re- 
lations lost no time in acquainting him with the duties 
of Indian domestic life. He was obliged to work 
hard ; and, in order that his physical education might 
be made as complete as possible, he was frequently 
required to give proof of his spirit and prowess by 
contests with youths of his own age and size. The 
Indians evidently had very little faith in the efficacy 
of the methods of raising and training children prev- 
alent among the whites ; and young McCullough was 
therefore obliged to go through what may be termed 



192 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



the process of "hardening" before he was looked 
upon by his Indian father and brothers with any other 
emotions than contempt and pity. 

Early one morning, about the end of October, he 
was aroused from his sleep by the old Indian, and 
told to get out of bed immediately. He obeyed, 
and was about to put on his clothes, when the savage 
checked him, and, opening the door of the cabin, 
commanded him to leave the room and go ahead of 
him to the river. Not daring to protest, he did as 
he was ordered, and, issuing from the hut, walked, 
without a orarment to cover him, in the chill mornine 
air, toward the stream. Arriving on the bank, he sat 
down, waiting for the old man to come up. For 
nearly fifteen minutes he sat shivering on the cold 
earth, and then, as the Indian did not appear, arose, 
and was about to return when he saw his master 
coming leisurely toward him, smoking his pipe. The 
old Indian, on arriving where the boy sat, suddenly 
stopped, and then, turning round as if he had for- 
gotten something, retraced his steps to the cabin. 
In a few moments he reappeared, carrying a thin, flat 
board in one hand. He came up to the boy, and, 
taking his pipe from his mouth, pointed to the water, 
and ordered him to wade into it and sit down. In- 
dignant at the treatment which he had received, 
McCullough, who was very spirited and rebellious, 
refused, and, turning round, was about to run, when 
the Indian seized him by the throat, and. grasping 
his paddle, commenced to thrash him unmercifully. 
After administering a severe punishment, he repeated 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. I 93 



his order, and the boy, fearing lest his master should 
beat him to death, complied, and, walking into the 
river, sat down in the cold water. The Indian ex- 
pressed himself satisfied, and stood for awhile look- 
ing at the youth, smoking his pipe in the meantime 
with great complacency. 

After he had sat for about ten minutes, McCul- 
lough was told that he might come out, and accord- 
ingly left the water. The Indian then hit him a 
smart blow, and ordered him to run around till his 
flesh should be perfectly dry. The boy obeyed, 
and, when he had taken the proper exercise, was per- 
mitted to return to the house, clothe himself, and sit 
by the fire. The next morning he was put through 
the same ordeal, and each successive morning was 
taken from his bed, and compelled by the old man to 
sit for a few minutes up to his chin in the water. So 
fixed was the Indian's determination to "harden" 
the youth by this stern process, that, when the frosts 
of winter closed the stream, he would take an axe, 
break the ice, and send him into the freezing current as 
before, never permitting him to go near the fire until 
his flesh had been dried by chafing or swift running. 

In consequence of this cruel treatment it was not 
long before the boy was taken very ill. Having no 
one to care for him but an Indian woman, a careless, 
slovenly creature, he became worse and worse, and 
fell into an almost hopeless condition ; but, receiving 
after awhile kinder attention and more skillful nurs- 
ing, he gradually commenced to gain, and, finally, 
recovered. 



i 9 4 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



As it was now spring, McCullough's Indian father, 
thinking, no doubt, that the warmer temperature of 
the water would have an enervating effect, did not 
continue the hardening process. He kept the boy, 
however, at hard work, and obliged him to fight and 
w T restle, in order that he might become active and 
obtain good muscular development. In all the duties 
imposed upon him the youth showed himself to be 
very faithful, and, by the address which he displayed 
in his sparring and wrestling matches, soon gained 
the favor of his masters and associates, by whom, 
instead of being looked down upon as the puny 
white boy, he was now praised and respected as the 
active and dexterous Indian youth. 

During the summer young McCullough was taken 
by the savages to a council of the Indians at Pres- 
quile, held for the purpose of effecting a treaty with 
the French. While on their way the party stopped 
at a trading-station to barter for goods and ammuni- 
tion. At this place, an old Frenchman, seeing the 
boy, and admiring his strength and activity, proposed 
to purchase him from his Indian masters. A dis- 
pute with regard to terms followed. To the intense 
disgust of the Indians, the trader, instead of offering 
them provisions, rum, and powder and ball, went to 
his canoe, which was fastened to a stake on the 
shore, and, taking from it an old rusty spade, want- 
ing the handle, returned and offered the implement in 
exchange, saying that the bargain would be a most 
advantageous one to them, and threatening, unless 
they agreed to his terms, to call his comrades and 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 95 

take the youth from them by force. Overhearing 
this proposition and threat, young McCullough, 
deeply incensed, came up to the man, and asked 
leave to examine the tool, remarking, at the same 
time, that the offer was a fair one, and should be ac- 
cepted. The Frenchman handed him the spade, 
when McCullough, grasping it with both hands, 
raised it in the air and dealt him so powerful a blow 
that he fell senseless. The alarm was at once raised, 
and the wounded man's comrades hastened to the 
rescue, hoping to apprehend the Indians ; but the 
latter, quickly taking to their canoes, escaped up the 
river. 

At Presquile, McCullough was left with an old 
squaw, by whom he was very well used, until the 
fall, when the Indian who called himself his brother 
came to take him back to Shenango. Upon his ar- 
rival he fell dangerously ill of the pleurisy, and, 
although he received kind and attentive treatment, it 
was nearly a month before he rose from his sick-bed. 

After his recovery, the life which he had previ- 
ously led continued with little variation. He re- 
mained for about two years and one-half in Shenango, 
and then removed with the family to Salt Licks, on 
the Beaver River. As time advanced, he became, 
by the force of circumstances, gradually transformed 
into an Indian youth, both in manner and appearance. 

During his stay with the family of his adopted 
parents, he met with a number of very serious mis- 
adventures. On one occasion he came very near 
being drowned, and was saved only by the timely 



ig6 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

aid of an old squaw, who discovered him floating on 
the water, and raised the alarm. Her husband 
came to the rescue, dragged the youth to the shore, 
held him for a few moments head downwards, and 
finally succeeded, though with great difficulty, in 
resuscitating him. He was several times cruelly 
beaten and maltreated ; and some of the stories which 
he relates in his narrative of Indian malice and bar- 
barity are peculiarly revolting. One of these will 
serve to show the lengths to which punishment for 
trivial offenses was carried by the more brutal of 
the Indian tribes. 

The Indian youth among whom McCullough was 
thrown, were much addicted to thievishness, lying, 
and all kinds of petty villainy. Watermelon and 
cucumber-patches were never safe from their depre- 
dations, and mischief of every sort was committed 
by them so frequently that it was exceedingly rare 
that a day passed without some one being severely 
chastised. 

In order to render crime odious in the sight of 
the youth, by making its punishment summary and 
terrible, one of the Indians invented an instrument 
of torture which, when once used on the body of 
an offender, was but poorly calculated to induce 
him to invite a second chastisement. This instru- 
ment was made of the long, bony bill of the gar, 
a fish exceedingly abundant in the Western waters, 
and was formed by projecting the sharp teeth of 
the animal through a wet rag. When an offense 
was committed which merited punishment with the 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 97 



instrument, the unfortunate youth was stripped 
naked, his flesh was thoroughly dampened, in order 
to prevent it from tearing, and he was scored from 
his hip to his heel, three or four times on each leg. 
When his offense was peculiarly odious, he was 
scored cruelly all over his body, often from the top 
of his shoulders to his heels, and thence on the 
soles of his feet to his toes, and sometimes on his 
breast and belly, and even on his face. 

The man who first brought this terrible instrument 
into use had a boy who was very mischievous and 
quarrelsome, and who, on account of his wicked ways, 
was often punished by his father with such extreme 
rigor that his back, arms, thighs and legs were con- 
stantly lacerated and raw. Not satisfied with being 
in trouble himself, this boy was frequently the means 
of causing his companions disgrace and chastisement 
on accout of offenses for which he was responsible, or 
of which he was the agent. 

One day, young McCullough was sent by the wife 
of his Indian brother on an errand to the cabin of 
this man. He performed the message with which he 
was intrusted, and then started to return, when the 
mischievous Indian boy, running up to him, ad- 
dressed him a few insulting words, and then, stoop- 
ing to the ground, picked up the putrid entrails of a 
turtle, and throwing them in his face, started to run. 
Provoked beyond measure, McCullough seized a 
stone, and, pursuing the young Indian, hurled it with 
such force that, striking him on the head, it knocked 
him senseless and bleeding to the ground. 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Terrified at the effect of the blow, and fearful of 
receiving severe punishment for the part which he 
had borne in the quarrel, young McCullough, after 
striving in vain to raise his wounded adversary, ran 
to one of the out-houses belonging to the cabin, and 
concealed himself among some bales of deer-skins 
and furs. He had not lain long before he heard a 
bustle in the yard, followed by the sound of angry 
voices. Venturing to look through a crack in the 
side of the building, he saw the father of the Indian 
boy stalking around in a furious rage, and inquiring 
with oaths and violent demonstrations for the of- 
fender. 

He was told by one of his children, who had been 
a quiet spectator of the affair, that the deed had been 
committed by the white youth, who had immediately 
made off and concealed himself in the thick bushes 
bordering a neighboring creek. The enraged Indian, 
on receiving this information, ran to the place which 
the child indicated, and made a careful search ; but, 
being unsuccessful, returned in a still more savage 
mood. Determined on making an example of some 
one, he seized the child who had given the false in- 
formation, and, stripping it naked, quickly scored it 
from head to foot with his barbarous instrument. 
This done, he glared fiercely round, and, swearing 
that he would treat every one of the family in the same 
way, laid hold of the other children, and was about 
to inflict a second dreadful punishment, when young 
McCullough, knowing that he would soon be dis- 
covered, and being too generous to allow the inno- 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 1 99 



cent to suffer for his offense, came from his place of 
concealment. 

He was instantly pounced upon by the savage, 
who, grinding his teeth with rage, and grinning with 
malicious joy, ordered him to strip and stand up by 
a post, which he pointed out. The unfortunate youth 
obeyed, and the Indian, dashing over him a bucket of 
water, took his dreaded instrument, and grasping his 
victim by the throat, drew it quickly across his back 
from his shoulder to his hip, and then scored him a 
number of times on each thigh and leg. In his eager- 
ness to finish the work of punishment he took very 
little care to prevent the flesh from tearing, and the 
consequence was, that when he finished the opera- 
tion, his victim was almost senseless from loss of 
blood, and his body was so lacerated that, in some 
places, great pieces of skin had either been torn 
completely off, or else hung loosely. McCullough 
did not recover from the effects of this brutal treat- 
ment for many months, and he bore the marks of it 
to his grave. 

In spite of the ill usage which he received on 
several occasions, and his dread of the malicious and 
revengeful disposition of the Indians, the boy grew 
very much attached to his life, and had no desire to 
return home. He had two or three opportunities of 
communicating with his friends through white traders, 
but, strange as it may seem, he did not avail himself 
of them, preferring to remain among his savage cap- 
tors. Every tie which had connected him with his 
early home was now severed. He had long since 



200 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



given up all hope of again seeing his father or 
mother, for he believed both of them to be dead. 
He had also lost sight of his younger brother, 
whom he had not seen or heard of since parting 
from him at Fort Duquesne. His appearance and 
actions were those of an Indian, and he spoke the 
Indian tongue fluently, almost without the suspicion 
of an English accent. 

When he had been with the savages for about four 
years, he one day received a visit from a white man, 
who, from the emotion which he manifested on seeing 
him, and from the earnestness with which he scruti- 
nized his features, evidently felt for him the deepest 
concern and interest. The stranger, when he could 
command his voice, asked the boy his name, and in- 
quired of him regarding his previous history, his 
parents, and his hopes and intentions for the future. 
To these questions young McCullough answered in 
Indian, — for he no longer spoke his mother tongue, — 
through an interpreter. He was very reticent, and 
said that he had nothing of importance to tell ; that 
he had once been a white boy, but that he was now 
an Indian ; and, finally, that he was content with his 
present lot, and would some day be a great warrior. 
The stranger again questioned him about his home, 
asking him if he would not be rejoiced to hear that 
his parents were still living, and that there was a pos- 
sibility of his returning to them. The boy shook his 
head, and replied that he was better off among his 
red friends, adding, that his parents would not know 
him nor he them. At this the man burst into tears, 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 201 



and, embracing him, told him that he was his father ; 
that he still loved him ; that, learning of his where- 
abouts, he had come a long distance to see him, and 
that he would soon come again to redeem and carry 
him home. Young McCullough did not speak, and 
manifested little feeling, and in a short time his father 
took his departure, very sorrowful and downcast. 

This incident occurred while the boy was living at 
Mahoning, to which place he had been taken from the 
Salt Licks. About six months later his father, ac- 
companied by a friend, came again, and, after a 
brief negotiation, the youth was given up to him and 
informed that he was to return to his white friends. 

This intelligence, which, as one would suppose, 
would have been most welcome, was received by the 
youth with every demonstration of grief. He clung 
to his Indian brother, begging him to refuse the 
ransom money, and to send the white men away as 
they came ; but he was told that the agreement had 
been made, and that he must prepare to leave. 
He wept bitterly, and spoke words of rage and 
scorn, but it was all to no purpose, and he was 
finally placed on the back of a horse and ordered 
to proceed. He threw himself from the animal, and 
tried to escape ; but he was soon overtaken, replaced 
on the steed, and his legs tied under its belly. In 
this helpless condition he was carried off, in spite 
of his remonstrances, by his father, who, though 
rejoiced at having recovered his long-lost son, 
went forward with a very sad countenance and a 
heavy heart. 

I 



202 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



After riding for about fifteen miles the party, com- 
posed of Mr. McCullough, his captive son, and a 
guide, dismounted and prepared to camp. Fearing 
that the boy, who had joined him with so much re- 
luctance, and who, during the journey, had evidently 
been brooding over his wrongs, might try to run 
away, Mr. McCullough took the garters from his 
legs, and with them tied his arms behind his back. 
He then lay down, placing John between himself 
and the guide. When his two companions were 
asleep, the boy quickly loosed the cord with which 
his arms were bound, rose from the ground, and, 
stepping over his father, ran silently and quickly 
away. He had not gone more than a hundred 
yards when, stopping to listen, he heard the bark- 
ing of a dog which belonged to the guide, accom- 
panied by a noise in the bushes behind him as of 
men in pursuit. Knowing that the dog would cer- 
tainly track and overtake him, he stopped short 
and climbed a tall tree, tie had no sooner con- 
cealed himself among the branches than the dog 
came up, and stopping at the foot of the tree, ran 
around it several times, and then went ahead. Mr. 
McCullough and the guide appeared a few moments 
later, following the lead of the dog, and cheering 
him on. They hunted for the boy several hours, 
and then returned, very much dejected. 

After a sufficient time had passed, the fugitive 
descended from his place of concealment, and ran 
through the forest until he came to the road 
by which the party had come the day before, 



THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN McCULLOUGH. 203 



when, taking his course in the direction of Ma- 
honing, he traveled for about three miles, and then, 
fearing lest he should be devoured by the wolves, 
which kept up a hideous howling all around him, 
and several of which brushed past him as he jour- 
neyed along the road, he mounted another tree 
and remained in its branches until daybreak. Re- 
suming his flight, he soon arrived among his In- 
dian friends, and was received by them with great 
delight, being congratulated on the shrewdness 
which he had displayed in escaping from his watch- 
ful father, and assured that he would be given con- 
cealment and protection. A few hours afterward 
Mr. McCullough arrived at the camp, but the In- 
dians told him that nothing had been seen of the 
boy, and he was therefore forced to make the jour- 
ney alone. 

During the next few years young McCullough 
grew rapidly in strength and activity, and, though 
he was yet a mere boy, was permitted by the In- 
dian warriors to accompany them on several of 
their hunting excursions. As he became older, he 
grew more thoughtful, and, though he still loved 
the freedom and excitement of his adventurous 
life, he began to regret that he had sent his 
father home in disappointment. Reflecting on the 
uninviting character of his future, he determined 
that, if another opportunity should offer, he would 
take advantage of it ; and the desire of return 
finally took such strong possession of his mind 
that he resolved to seek the good fortune which 



204 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



he hoped was in store for him rather than to await 
it. Circumstances proved favorable. 

In the fall of 1764, Colonel Boquet made an 
expedition against the Indian tribes. He met with 
complete success. A large body of savages surren- 
dered at discretion, and were taken to Pittsburgh — 
the name given by the English to Fort Duquesne, 
which had fallen into their hands some years be- 
fore—and placed in confinement. Among the pris- 
oners was McCullough, who, thrown once more 
among his own people, easily found means of com- 
municating with his parents. Arrangements for set- 
ting him at liberty were soon effected, and he re- 
turned home in December, 1764, after an absence of 
eight years, four months and sixteen days. 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



THIS noted spy and ranger was born in 1758, in 
the town of Shippensburg, Pennsylvania. He 
was of Irish extraction — his grandfather, Hugh Brady, 
having emigrated to America early in the eighteenth 
century. His father, John Brady, fought bravely and 
with distinction in the French and Indian war, receiv- 
ing a captain's commission as a reward of meritorious 
conduct ; and throughout the border troubles with the 
Indians he rendered active and very efficient service 
as a frontiersman of marked courage, and as a scout 
of enterprise and intrepidity. 

In 1775, at the age of seventeen, Samuel Brady 
enlisted in a volunteer rifle company, commanded by 
Captain John Lowden. In the various engagements 
of the Revolution, in which he participated, he bore, 
for one of his years, a most conspicuous part ; and it 
was not loner before the value of his services received 
substantial recognition, for he was promptly raised to a 
lieutenancy. Promotion followed rapidly ; and, before 
he had reached the age of twenty-one, he was placed 
in command of a company in the regiment of General 
Broadhead, and dispatched for duty in the West. 

Soon after his arrival at Pittsburgh, in April, 1779, 
he received the news of the murder of his father by the 

(•OS) 



206 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



Indians. A few months before, his younger brother, 
James Brady, had been cruelly butchered. The deaths 
of his father and brother, following so close upon one 
another, and occurring under circumstances so terrible, 
made a profound impression on Samuel's mind; and 
the spirit of retaliation was so deeply aroused within 
him, that he took a solemn oath that he would devote 
the remainder of his life to avenging the wrongs of his 
people, and waging an exterminating warfare against 
all Indians. 

The army commanded by General Broadhead, quar- 
tered at Pittsburgh, was intrusted with the defense of 
the frontier. The country to the north and west of 
the Alleghany River was held by the Indian allies of 
the British ; and as it was highly important that the 
enemy should not be permitted to come beyond the 
border, General Broadhead found it necessary to send 
out numerous scouting expeditions to watch their 
movements, and obtain information respecting their 
intentions. 

Early in 17S0, he received instructions from General 
Washington to dispatch a competent officer to San- 
dusky, with orders to examine that place, and ascer- 
tain the strength of the British and Indians assem- 
bled there. Without waiting to consult anv of his 
aides. General Broadhead summoned Captain Brady 
to his presence, showed him Washington's letter, 
gave him a rough chart or map of the country, and, 
commissioning him to perform the service, told him 
to select the men whom he wished to accompany 
him, and be off without delav. 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



207 



Highly gratified at the confidence reposed in him 
by his superior officer, Brady was not long in mak- 
ing his preparations. Choosing a number of soldiers 
for his companions, and selecting four Chickasaw In- 
dians as guides, he crossed the Alleghany River, and 
advanced into the enemy's country. 

Few persons can have an adequate idea of the 
dangers incurred by the early adventurers. To lead 
an expedition against the fierce and warlike savages, 
or even to engage in such an expedition under a 
brave and tried leader, must, indeed, have required 
a bold spirit. Success, when once achieved, was de- 
cisive, and brought its certain reward; but the odds 
which had to be met were correspondingly great. 
In time of war, the Indians were constantly on the 
watch for intruders ; and often the slightest trace, 
such as an unwary movement, or the print of a white 
man's foot on the sand of a river, was followed by 
discovery and attack. To give the Indians the least 
advantage was to invite certain death ; for, when 
once alarmed and prepared, nothing could surpass 
the vigilance of the savage warriors, or the skill 
with which they laid an ambush, and carried their 
offensive plans into execution. 

Attired in the full war dress of an Indian, and well 
prepared to act the part of the skillful strategist, 
Brady set out with his band early in the month of 
May, 1780. The season was very wet, and every 
stream was swollen to nearly twice its ordinary size. 
The country afforded no houses for shelter, and no 
roads or bridges for passage ; and, what added greatly 



208 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



to the inconveniences of the march, the chart given 
to Brady by General Broadhead was so defective 
that the party several times lost their way. The 
supplies which had been taken were inadequate, and 
the adventurers were obliged to depend for support, 
in great part, upon provisions picked up on the way, 
while they crept, rather than marched, through the 
wilderness by night, lying concealed in the branches 
of trees by day. 

After a journey of several days, the party arrived 
in the neighborhood of the Sandusky towns without 
seeing a single hostile Indian. Approaching the vil- 
lages, Brady advanced with caution ; for he knew that 
the savages were encamped in great force, and that 
straggling parties were, therefore, to be met at almost 
every turn. 

While carefully making his way toward the Indian 
encampment, Brady suddenly heard, a short distance 
ahead of him, the sound of soft voices. Signaling 
his men to halt, he went forward alone, rifle in hand, 
to make observations. He soon perceived a faint, 
glimmering light; and, advancing noiselessly toward 
it, discovered two squaws sitting by the embers of a 
camp-fire. Too brave to take advantage of the weak 
and defenseless, he left them unharmed, and returned 
as he came. 

He found his comrades lying quietly where he had 
left them; but, by their dark looks, and sharp, surly 
answers, he judged that some unpleasant incident 
had occurred. Concluding that they were dissatisfied 
with something, and that they would soon make their 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



209 



troubles known, he did not think it prudent to ques- 
tion them too closely ; and, sitting down unconcern- 
edly, busied himself in putting his rifle in order. 
This done, he commanded them to hand him their 
powder-horns and pouches, in order that he might 
divide the remaining powder and ball equally among 
them. 

Instead of obeying this command, the men looked 
at each other for a moment in silence, and then, 
grasping their rifles, flatly refused. Brady demanded 
an explanation, when one of the soldiers, acting as 
the spokesman of his comrades, asked him whether 
he had seen or heard any thing of the Chickasaw 
guides ; and told him, if he had not, that he would 
probably see or hear of them shortly, and in a man- 
ner not much to his liking. He then informed his 
leader that, while he had been absent reconnoitering 
the camp, the Indians had stolen away, taking with 
them all of the remaining provisions. It was now 
evident, he said, that the treacherous guides had 
gone over to the enemy ; and that, in the course of 
a very short time, they would lead an overwhelming 
force to the place of concealment, w T hen death or 
capture would be inevitable. He added, that the 
only recourse of the party was to retire as rapidly 
as the darkness of the night would permit ; and de- 
clared that he and his comrades had resolved upon 
immediate flight, whatever might be the determina- 
tion of their leader. 

When he had finished speaking, Brady very calmly 
asked him what preparations had been made for the 



2TO 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



journey. For his part, he said, he was in a much 
better plight to meet hostile Indians than to brave 
starvation in the wilderness ; and then, taking his 
powder-horn from his belt, he handed it to one of 
the men, requesting him to turn it upside down, 
and see how much powder it contained. An ex- 
amination proved that there was not a grain left; 
and Brady informed his companions that trie last 
charge was in his rifle. But, he added, with an 
oath, instead of keeping his last shot for defending 
himself from the Indians, he would use it for main- 
taining his authority ; and, raising the gun to his 
shoulder, he asked them whether they preferred that 
he should discharge it at one of them, or that he 
should wait until necessity demanded that he should 
employ it for his own and their protection. 

This signal instance of resolution on the part of 
their leader put the men to confusion and shame; 
and, signifying their acquiescence, they told him that 
they were content, and would follow wherever he 
might lead. Brady commended their devotion ; and, 
selecting one man to accompany him, he concealed 
the rest in a ravine which afforded good means of 
protection from an attacking force, and then set out 
toward the villages to accomplish the object of his 
enterprise. He reached the river, waded it to a 
small island opposite the town, and, hiding himself 
with his comrade in some thick bushes, waited anx- 
iously for morning. 

The day dawned with a heavy fog which obscured 
every thing but objects immediately at hand. It did 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



2 I I 



not clear off until about noon, when the sun suddenly 
came out very bright, revealing the whole position 
of the enemy, which was so conspicuous and open 
that the spies had every opportunity of making ob- 
servations. 

The Indians numbered about three thousand, and 
had just returned from an expedition into Kentucky 
or Virginia. They had captured a great many horses, 
and were very gay and frolicsome, riding the ani- 
mals at full speed over a long race course. The 
antics of the Indians afforded Brady and his compan- 
ion a great deal of amusement; and, from the good 
humor in which they appeared to be, it was evident 
that they had received as yet no information of the 
presence of an enemy in the neighborhood, and con- 
sequently that the Chickasaw guides had deserted 
from some other motive than that of treachery. 

Leaving the island in the evening, Brady waded 
to the shore, and lost no time in rejoining his com- 
panions. Before setting out on his return march, he 
determined to make another visit to the camp which 
he had observed the night before. Taking with him 
two of his men, he approached it slowly and cau- 
tiously. He found the two squaws still there ; and, 
rushing suddenly toward them with his tomahawk 
raised, he compelled them to surrender, bound them, 
and, returning to his comrades, gave the word to 
proceed. 

As the Chickasaws had stolen all of the provisions, 
the adventurers were reduced to great extremities 
from hunger. Their ammunition was nearly ex- 



212 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



hausted, and they consequently could not spare much 
for shooting at game. As Brady was the best marks- 
man of the company, his comrades, by mutual con- 
sent, left the hunting to him. He succeeded in kill- 
ing an otter, but its flesh was so tough and unwhole- 
some that it could not be eaten. For many days 
they subsisted almost entirely on strawberries. Jour- 
neying on, they finally came to a country where neither 
game nor fruit was to be found. The powder-horns 
were by this time entirely empty, and there was only 
one of the party whose gun was charged. By the 
unanimous voice of the men, the loaded rifle was 
given to Brady, and the forlorn march was resumed. 

While casting their eyes around, looking for some 
trace of game, Brady discovered, to his great joy, 
the track of a deer. Leaving his companions, he 
followed it, thinking, from its freshness, that he would 
not have to o-o far before he should overtake the 
animal. Suddenly he heard a slight noise in the 
bushes, and a large rabbit crossed his path. He 
might easily have killed it, and satisfied his own hun- 
ger, but he knew that it would furnish but a poor 
meal for his famished companions, and he therefore 
permitted it to pass. Continuing to follow the track, 
he soon came in sight of the deer. He raised his 
rifle, and pulled the trigger; but, to his intense dis- 
appointment, the powder flashed in the pan, and im- 
mediately after the deer bounded off. 

Brady now sat down and picked the touch-hole of 
his gun. This done, he arose and started on, to pur- 
sue the animal, and, if possible, get another shot; 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



213 



but, before he had gone far, he heard the tramp of 
a horse, and the sound of voices, and, concealing 
himself in the underwood, he soon discovered a party 
of Indians approaching along the path. They were 
led by a tall, powerful savage on horseback, who 
carried a white child in his arms. A woman, evi- 
dently the child's mother, sat behind him. The war- 
riors, about ten in number, were all completely armed, 
and were doubtless returning from some hostile ex- 
pedition, for they had several scalps, and carried a 
quantity of provisions. 

Once more examining his rifle, Brady paused a 
moment to deliberate ; and then, advancing to the 
edge of the bushes, waited for the Indians to come 
up. His purpose was to lie concealed until the 
party had passed, shoot the hindmost savage, se- 
cure his ammunition; and then, before the rest of 
the warriors could recover from their surprise, make 
off through the forest, and rejoin his comrades. But, 
while he lay in wait for his enemies, carefully watch- 
ing their movements, and studying the situation, he 
discovered that the woman on horseback had -been 
most brutally used by her savage captors. Her face 
was cruelly scratched, her dress was torn in shreds, 
and one of her arms hung limp and powerless, evi- 
dently from the effect of a blow. Brady's sympathies 
were excited ; and, forgetting his own danger in his 
desire to alleviate the sufferings of a fellow-creature, 
he resolved to use his best endeavors to free the 
captive. 

When the Indian on horseback had come within a 
13 



214 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



few rods, Brady leveled his rifle, and touched the 
trigger, ready to shoot. He was about to let the 
hammer fall, when the Indian, catching up the child, 
which had dropped asleep, shook it violently, bid- 
ding it to wake up. The agitation caused by this 
act destroyed Brady's aim; and, before he could 
take another, the horse had passed, and the form 
of the woman was thrown between him and the 
savage. Gliding silently from his hiding-place, he 
ran swiftly ahead, and again concealed himself. As 
he did so, one of the warriors, who was more alert 
than his companions, suddenly stopped ; and, step- 
ping cautiously to the bushes, carefully examined 
them, in order to ascertain whether they contained 
a lurking foe. He returned to his comrades appar- 
ently satisfied, merely saying that he had heard a 
rustling in the leaves, but that it was only a squirrel 
or rabbit. 

As his enemy approached, Brady again raised his 
gun and took a careful aim. He fired, and the In- 
dian dropped dead from the horse, the mother and 
child falling with him. Instantly springing forward, 
Brady uttered a terrible yell ; and to deceive the 
warriors with regard to the strength of his party, 
waved his tomahawk over his head and shouted to 
his comrades to surround the enemy and take them 
prisoners. The Indians were thrown into the direst 
confusion, and, dashing their arms to the ground, 
stood huddled together, waiting for the appearance 
of their foe, and begging for quarter. In an instant 
Brady had reached the fallen Indian. Seizing his 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



215 



powder-horn, he tugged vigorously at it, but, in spite 
of all his exertions, it would not come off. His next 
care was to rescue the mother and child, but, as he 
was dressed as an Indian, the former at first mis- 
trusted his motive, and asked him reproachfully why 
he had shot his brother. This inquiry he answered 
by another yell to his men, exclaiming that he 
was Captain Brady, and that he would rescue her if 
she would follow him. He seized the woman's hand, 
caught up the infant, and ran swiftly away. The 
brief delay, caused by his efforts to detach the pow- 
der-horn of the Indian, enabled the warriors to re- 
cover, in a degree, from their confusion, and, picking 
up their rifles, they fired a volley at the fugitive. 
But, as most of the shots were discharged at random, 
they fortunately had no effect, and Brady was soon 
out of range. As the Indians dreaded an ambus- 
cade, they did not pursue him ; and, making the best 
of his escape, he arrived the next day with the woman 
and child at Fort Mcintosh, a post some distance in 
advance. Here he found his men, who, hearing his 
whoop, and knowing that he had engaged a party of 
Indians, had made off, fearful that, if they remained, 
they would be massacred, for they had no ammuni- 
tion, and were totally defenseless. Brady was far 
from pleased at the conduct of his men, but his dis- 
pleasure was increased to wrath when, inquiring for 
the two squaws whom he had left with them, he was 
told that they had stolen off in the panic, and made 
their escape. Thoroughly disgusted, Brady told 
them that they were a lot of d — d cowardly fellows, 



THE BACK- 



WOODSMEN. 



and tauntingly told them to remain where they were, 
while he returned to Pittsburgh and dispatched a 
guard to bring them home ; but, after awhile his 
mood changed, and he begged their pardon for his 
ungenerous language, giving them credit for their 
faithfulness and bravery under trying circumstances, 
and assuring them that he would render a favorable 
report of them to General Broadhead. 

After resting for a few days at the fort, Brady re- 
turned by water with his men to Pittsburgh. He was 
received with military honor. Minute-guns were 
fired from the time he came in sight until he landed, 
and he was conducted to head-quarters by a military 
escort. General Broadhead complimented him highly 
on his success. He informed him that the Chicka- 
saw Indians had returned to camp with the report that 
the party had heen cut off, and every man murdered. 
The General added that, on receiving this informa- 
tion, he had done him great injustice, saying that 
he was an aspiring young man, and had solicited 
the command; but he now made full reparation, 
and acknowledged to his officers that the Captain 
had accepted the commission with great diffidence. 

About a week after Brady's return from Sandusky 
intelligence was received that the Indians were gath- 
ering at a point on the Alleghany River, with the in- 
tention, as it was supposed, of marching against the 
settlements on the Susquehanna. In order to obtain 
definite information regarding their strength and pur- 
poses, Brady was dispatched, with a companion named 
Phouts, to reconnoiter their position, and, if possible, 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



217 



bring in a prisoner. Setting out about two hours 
before daybreak, the two men took the road through 
the wilderness, and, marching without stoppage, came, 
toward the close of the next day, to a small* creek, 
where they determined to encamp for the night. 
They halted and built a fire. Covering it with wet 
leaves and brush, in order to keep it in, they took 
their rifles and went out to hunt. In a short time 
they came to the mouth of a run, on the banks of 
which there was a lick apparently much frequented 
by deer, and, placing themselves in readiness, they 
waited patiently for the animals to come in to drink. 
Their watchfulness was soon rewarded. In a few mo- 
ments two deer came to the lick. One of them was shot 
and quickly skinned and quartered. The flesh was 
carried to the fire and 4 'jerked," and in the morning 
a sufficient quantity of the meat was shouldered, the 
remainder was hung up on a tree, and the journey 
was resumed. > 

Towards evening of the second day, Brady discov- 
ered a number of crows hovering over the tops of the 
trees near the bank of the river. Telling his com- 
panion that he suspected that there were Indians in 
the neighborhood, he halted to prepare for a recon- 
noissance. 

Although Phouts was anxious to go at once and 
ascertain whether the conjecture was well-founded, 
Brady restrained him, saying that such a step would 
be very imprudent, and telling him that the best pol- 
icy would be to hide themselves until dark, when, if 
there were really Indians in the neighborhood, their 



218 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



position would be indicated by their camp-fires. They 
accordingly concealed themselves until about ten 
o'clock, when they ventured from their hiding-places 
to make observations. 

Walking cautiously toward the river bank, they 
soon discovered a twinkling light at the distance of a 
few hundred yards. Whispering his companion to 
remain where he was, Brady started towards it, but 
Phouts instantly rejoined him, saying that it would 
not be wise to part company, since, from appearances, 
the enemy was encamped in force. 

Making their way with all care, Brady and Phouts 
soon came close to the fire. Greatly to their sur- 
prise they found it was the camp, not of a war-party, 
but of a single old Indian, who was sitting beside a 
tree mending a pair of moccasins. 

At this discovery, Phouts, who thought more of 
blood and scalps than of policy or consequences, gave 
a low chuckle, and, raising his rifle, prepared to shoot. 
Brady, perceiving his design just in time, seized him 
by the throat and swore that, unless he desisted, he 
would choke him to death instantly. He then made 
a circuit of the camp, and, rejoining his comrade, set 
out to return, motioning him to follow. Phouts 
obeyed, though with great reluctance, for he was still 
bent on murdering the old Indian. 

When they had gone about a hundred yards from 
the camp, Brady stopped and told his companion that 
he judged that the fire had been made by a band of 
Indians who had departed on some warlike expedi- 
tion, leaving the old man in charge. He said that he 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



219 



supposed they would come back soon, and, therefore, 
that it would be best to lie concealed until morning. 
If they did not return by that time the camp should 
be visited again, and the old Indian disposed of. 

They accordingly climbed a tree and waited for the 
approach of day. When the first streak appeared in 
the East they descended and went to the fire. The 
old man was still there. He lay on his back fast 
asleep. There was no trace to indicate that any of 
the band had returned or were in the neighbor- 
hood, for his only companions were a dog and a 
horse. 

Wishing to see the country around the camp, and 
understand its features better, Brady made a quick 
examination of it. He found, a short distance up 
the river, a large trail, and, from its freshness, he 
concluded that the Indians had gone up the Alle- 
ghany a few days before on some warlike enterprise. 

The two spies now returned to the camp. The 
Indian was found, as before, lying on his back. 
Phouts again raised his gun, but Brady again re- 
strained him, saying that the old man should not be 
harmed, since he would make a good prisoner. He 
ordered his comrade to remain where he was, and 
not to fire unless the Indian's dog should show fight, 
in which case he was to shoot the dog. 

When every thing was arranged, Brady dropped 
his rifle, and, with his tomahawk lifted in the air, 
crept toward the sleeping savage. Arrived within 
a few feet, he made a sudden bound, and, with a 
yell which echoed in the distance, grasped his enemy 



220 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



by the throat, at the same time planting his knee 
firmly on his breast. Resistance was useless, and 
the Indian quietly surrendered. His dog was equally 
tractable, and Phouts came forward to bind the pris- 
oner with a very woe-begone look, inwardly re- 
proaching himself for not having followed his own 
impulse, and shot the Indian where he lay. 

When the savage was told that he was to be 
taken to Pittsburgh, and would be kindly used, he 
went to a clump of bushes and drew out a canoe. 
The party then embarked, and paddled, without 
stopping, until they came to the mouth of the creek 
on which they had encamped the night before, when 
they landed, made a fire, and lay down to sleep. 

In the morning, Captain Brady, leaving the pris- 
oner with Phouts, went up the creek, intending to 
secure the pieces of jerked deer's meat which had 
been left hanging on the trees. He had not been 
gone five minutes when he heard a murderous yell, 
followed instantly by the loud report of a rifle. His 
first thought was, that his friend had been shot at, 
and, perhaps, killed by some lurking savage ; and 
he accordingly turned round and went back, de- 
termined to wreak vengeance on the attacking 
party. 

Peering cautiously from behind the trees, Brady 
saw, to his surprise and unspeakable disgust, that 
his comrade had taken advantage of his absence to 
shoot the prisoner, and was now sitting composedly 
on his dead body. The Captain instantly came 
from his hiding-place, and stalking up to the place 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



22 I 



where he was sitting, asked him in language more 
expressive than choice, what he had done. Phouts 
looked up mildly, and, showing a hole in his bullet- 
pouch belt, which had evidently been made by a rifle- 
ball, said that he had just had a very narrow escape, 
and then related the story of his adventure. 

The old Indian had, during the voyage and through 
the night, behaved himself with such decency and qui- 
etude, and had appeared so perfectly harmless in dispo- 
sition, that Phouts had given him his entire confidence, 
and instead of growing more vigilant with each new 
instance of the prisoner's extreme humility, had be- 
come more and more disposed to extend him privi- 
leges. The Indian had noticed the friendly and good- 
natured disposition of his captor; and, craftily laying 
his plans, he determined to take the first opportunity 
of making it work to his advantage. 

Immediately after Brady's departure, the savage, 
heaving a deep sigh, complained bitterly of the pain 
which he suffered from the tightness of the cords on 
his wrists, and requested Phouts to loosen them, or, 
if he would be so good, to take them off altogether 
for a minute or two. This request was granted with 
alacrity. The old man very gratefully returned his 
thanks ; and, sitting down on the ground, meekly 
folded his hands, watching Phouts as he busied him- 
self preparing breakfast. The latter kept an eye on 
the prisoner for a few moments ; but, seeing that he 
made no suspicious movements, and evidently had no 
other feeling than that of the liveliest gratitude, he 
did not regard it necessary to keep a constant watch, 



222 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



and so continued his work with very little concern for 
any thing else. 

While piling a heap of wood on the fire, Phouts 
suddenly heard the sharp click of a rifle ; and wheel- 
ing, as by instinct, he saw the innocent and humble 
old Indian standing by a tree, with the gun raised 
and pointed, ready to fire. Dodging to one side, 
Phouts drew his tomahawk ; and, giving a loud 
whoop, made a rush at his enemy. The savage 
fired, and the ball passed through his assailant's 
belt, doing no further harm. Instantly the white 
man's tomahawk accomplished its work, and the In- 
dian sank to the ground lifeless. 

Taking the dead man's scalp, Brady and his com- 
rade embarked, and resumed the voyage to Pitts- 
burgh. They arrived safely; and the Captain, in- 
forming the General of what he had done, advised 
him of the departure of the warriors up the Alle- 
ghany on their expedition against the Susquehanna 
settlements. He favored dispatching a force to over- 
take them ; his counsel was accepted, and a large 
band was sent out forthwith. The enterprise was 
successful, and the Indians were thwarted in their 
design. 

o 

The success of Captain Brady in his scouting en- 
terprises made his services very valuable, and he was 
never detached to perform duty except on occasions 
of the greatest moment. No particular region of 
country was assigned him ; nevertheless, he was often 
sent, — especially at very dangerous times, — to ex- 
amine and re-examine ground which he had already 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



223 



explored; and the Indians, seeing that his visits had 
in this way come to be almost periodical, carefully 
studied his movements, determined to entrap him, if 
possible. Two or three times, he came very near 
being drawn into Indian ambuscades; and prob- 
ably no man ever had so many hair-breadth escapes 
from capture. 

On one occasion, Captain Brady was dispatched 
to examine a strip of country which, from the great 
numbers and the savage character of the hostile 
bands which occupied it, was regarded by General 
Broadhead as peculiarly dangerous. Brady returned 
from his mission with complete success; and, as a 
great deal depended upon keeping this dangerous 
territory under constant watch, he was frequently 
sent to it afterward. 

One day, while marching through a thickly-wooded 
and very rocky part of the country, along the banks 
of the Beaver River, he struck, toward evening, a 
fresh trail, evidently made a few hours before by a 
large war-party. He followed it with all speed until 
dark; and, starting betimes the next morning, he 
had the good fortune to overtake the warriors while 
they were seated around their fires eating breakfast. 

Brady's party numbered five men. The strength 
of the Indians was at least six times as great ; but, 
without the slightest hesitation, the brave leader of 
the spies determined to attack them, and depend on 
the courage of his men and the advantages of his posi- 
tion for victory. He accordingly posted his comrades, 
and, giving the signal of attack, fired. Instantly three 



224 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Indians dropped dead; and, in the midst of the con- 
fusion which followed in the camp, the spies reversed 
their guns, and prepared to reload for another volley. 

Just as Brady was emptying the powder into the 
muzzle of his gun, one of his men gave a quick 
warning cry; and, before he had time to apprehend 
its meaning, or give orders, a dozen rifles opened 
fire from the rear on him and his companions. Two 
of the rangers dropped lifeless, and Brady himself 
narrowly escaped — his tomahawk being shot from his 
belt. The men who survived sprang to their feet, 
and placed themselves on the defensive just in time 
to see a band of savages emerge from cover in the 
rear, and, with their tomahawks raised, advance at 
full speed to attack them, and intercept their flight. 

Captain Brady now realized the peril of his situa- 
tion. It was evident that a trap had been laid for 
him, and that he had been enticed to pursue the first 
party in order that the second might pursue him ; 
and, while he was laying his plans of attack, sur- 
round his band, and so render capture or extermina- 
tion inevitable. He was between two fires; and, as 
he had every reason to believe, was completely hem- 
med in on all sides. Resistance would have been 
fool-hardy, for the most fearful odds were to be en- 
countered. Flight seemed to be equally out of the 
question, since the Indians were as eager to capture 
the spies as they were to escape. Surrender could 
not be entertained for a moment; for these brave 
men could not endure the thought of captivity and 
torture, regarding instant death as far preferable. 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



225 



Without waiting a second to deliberate, Brady, car- 
rying his empty rifle in his left hand, and flourishing 
his knife in his right, dashed off in the direction of a 
small creek which flowed through a chasm a short 
distance beyond. Seeing his purpose, both bodies 
of savages raised a shout of exultation, for they knew 
that his capture was now as good as accomplished ; 
since, on reaching the creek, he would be obliged to 
turn round and look for some other avenue of escape, 
as its bank was in no place less than twenty-five feet 
in height, and as he could not, therefore, venture a 
leap without, as they thought, certain death. Throw- 
ing down their rifles, and brandishing thmr tomahawks, 
the whole band started in hot pursuit, entirely disre- 
garding, in their eagerness to secure their arch-foe, 
Brady's three companions, who accordingly made 
good their escape. 

As Brady rushed forward, an Indian, who lay in 
wait for him behind a tree, attempted to bar his 
progress ; but a dexterous thrust from the knife of the 
brave spy compelled him to give over his design, and 
laid him bleeding on the ground. A few yards further 
on, a second savage emerged from behind a tree, and 
struck at the fugitive with his tomahawk; but, as 
Brady had espied the fellow, he was prepared for him, 
and easily dodged the blow. Making straight for the 
bank, he was not slow to comprehend that the inten- 
tion of his enemies was to surround him while he 
paused on the brink of the chasm, and there bring 
him to bay ; and, determined that he would never be 
made a captive by the Indians, he boldly resolved to 



226 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN 



plunge directly over the bank, and trust to fortune for 
the rest. Rushing forward with the greatest impetu- 
osity, he reached the creek at the most precipitous 
point of its bank; and, leaping without the slightest 
hesitation, he cleared the stream, and was soon safe 
on the opposite side. The Indians set up a cry of 
mingled despair and admiration, but still continued 
to flock to the bank. Without stopping to breathe, 
Brady drew his ramrod, and commenced to charge 
his rifle, determined, before seeking a place of safety, 
to exchange a shot with his enemies. But, before he 
had finished loading, a tall, powerful savage, who had 
been foremost in the pursuit, appeared above. Know- 
ing that he had Brady in his power, he deliberately 
raised and aimed his rifle ; but in a moment he let the 
muzzle fall, evidently hesitating to take so cowardly 
an advantage. He raised it a second time, and a sec- 
ond time hesitated, — until finally, generous motives 
prevailing over brutal instincts, he planted the stock 
on the ground, and expressed his approval by exclaim- 
ing, in a loud voice and tolerable English: "Blady 
make good jump!" Immediately after, he turned 
round and ran away, while Brady coolly finished load- 
ing his piece, and then resumed his flight. Repairing 
to a place which had been appointed as the rendez- 
vous in case of separation, he found his three sur- 
viving companions. The party at once took up the 
homeward march, and arrived soon afterward safely 
at Pittsburgh. 

In this connection, the following tribute to the 
bravery and daring of Captain Brady, and the repu- 




BRADY'S JUMP. 



> 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



229 



tation which he achieved by his remarkable perform- 
ances, written by a well-known local historian, may be 
of interest to our readers : 

"Beaver Valley," he says, "was the scene of many 
of Captain Brady's stirring adventures. We have 
recently visited some of the interesting localities, cele- 
brated as Brady's theater of action, and heard from 
many of the old citizens their accounts of his thrilling 
exploits. They speak in unbounded terms of admira- 
tion of his daring and success ; his many hair-breadth 
escapes 'by field and flood'; and always concluded 
by declaring that he was a greater man than Daniel 
Boone or Lewis Weitzel, either of whom, in the eyes 
of the old pioneers, was the very embodiment of dare- 
devilism." 

The following brief account of incidents in the life 
of Captain Brady, while scouting in the Beaver Val- 
ley, is by the same writer: 

" On one of their scouting expeditions into the 
Indian country, the spies, consisting at that time of 
sixteen men, encamped for the night at a place called 
' Big Shell Camp.' Toward morning, one of the 
guard heard the report of a gun ; and, immediately 
communicating the fact to his commander, a change 
of position was ordered. Leading his men to an 
elevated point, the Indian camp was discovered almost 
beneath them. Cautiously advancing in the direction 
of the camp, six Indians were discovered standing 
around the fire, while others lay on the. ground, ap- 
parently asleep. Brady ordered his men to wrap 
themselves in their blankets and lie down, while he 



23O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

kept watch. Two hours thus passed without any 
thing material occurring. As day began to appear, 
Brady roused his men, and posted them side by side, 
himself at the end of the line. When all were in 
readiness, the commander was to touch, with his 
elbow, the man who stood next to him, and the com- 
munication was to pass successively to the farthest 
end. The orders then were, the moment the last 
man was touched, he should fire, which was to be the 
signal for a general discharge. With the first faint 
ray of light, six Indians rose, and stood around the 
fire. With breathless expectation the whites waited 
for the remainder to rise ; but failing, and apprehend- 
ing a discovery, the Captain moved his elbow, and the 
next instant the wild-wood rang with the shrill report 
of the rifles of the spies. Five of the six Indians fell 
dead ; but the sixth, screened by a tree, escaped. 
The camp being large, it was deemed unsafe to at- 
tack it further, and a retreat was immediately ordered. 

"Soon after the above occurrence, in returning 
from a similar expedition, and when about two miles 
from the mouth of Yellow Creek, at a place admira- 
bly adapted for an ambuscade, a solitary Indian 
stepped forward, and fired upon the advancing com- 
pany. Instantly on firing, he retreated toward a deep 
ravine, into which the savage hoped to lead his pur- 
suers. But Brady detected the trick ; and, in a voice 
of thunder, ordered his men to tree. No sooner had 
this been done, than the concealed foe rushed forth 
in great numbers, and opened upon the whites a per- 
fect storm of leaden hail. The brave spies returned 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



23I 



the fire with spirit and effect; but, as they were likely 
to be overpowered by superior numbers, a retreat was 
ordered to the top of the hill, and thence continued 
until out of danger. 

"The whites lost one man in this engagement and 
two wounded. The Indian loss is supposed to have 
been about twenty in killed and wounded. " 

With one more incident in the life of this truly re- 
markable man, the present history will be brought to 
a close. 

While traveling, with four companions, through a 
thick and gloomy wood in Western Pennsylvania, 
Brady came one day to a deserted Indian camp. 
Every appearance indicated that the savages had left 
the spot only a few hours previous. The fire was still 
burning, and the hind-quarters of a deer, which had 
been killed not long before, were found lying in the 
grass. Examining the ground carefully, Brady dis- 
covered two trails, one of which led toward the fire, 
; and the other away from it. They had both been 
made, evidently, by the same party of Indians, whose 
numbers, Brady concluded, did not exceed five or six. 
He determined to pursue, overtake, and attack them ; 
but, as he and his comrades were very hungry, hav- 
ing eaten nothing since the previous evening, he 
readily complied with the urgent requests of his men, 
and ordered that the fire should be rekindled, and 
the remains of the deer be cooked for their dinner. 
In a few moments the spies were seated on the 
ground, eagerly devouring the meat which the In- 
dians had providentially left for them. 



232 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

Suddenly stopping, while in the midst of his meal, 
Brady remarked to one of his comrades that he 
began to suspect that the savages were too kind by 
half, and had either poisoned the deer, or else left it 
there with some design. He had no sooner spoken 
than he saw the flash of a rifle from the branches of 
a neighboring tree, and the next instant twenty or 
thirty guns were heard to sound, all of them being 
fired by Indians concealed in the tree-tops. Brady's 
four companions dropped dead. He himself was un- 
hurt, but he knew that his enemies had spared him 
only to devote him to a more wretched and dreadful 
death ; and, grasping his rifle, he instantly sprang to 
his feet and bounded quickly off through the woods. 

Although he ran with all the swiftness of a man 
who knows that successful flight alone can save him 
from unavoidable and horrible death, he soon saw 
that the Indians had laid their plans of capture with 
the greatest care. He had gone but a few rods 
when he saw, immediately in front of him, a party of 
a dozen burly savages emerging from a thick covert, 
and preparing to surround him. He changed his 
course, but his enemies soon intercepted him ; and 
before he had time to turn and choose another direc- 
tion, the Indians in the rear, who had by this time 
descended from the trees, came up, and closing 
around, soon overpowered him, and obliged him to 
surrender. 

Binding their prisoner tightly with thick cords, the 
Indians returned to the camp, scalped the four white 
men, and then set out for their village. During the 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY, 



233 



march they shouted and screamed in exultation, but 
did not beat or otherwise misuse their captive, since 
they preferred to keep him sound and unharmed 
until their friends could share in the enjoyment which 
his torture would afford. He was watched vigilantly 
at night, and each time he opened his eyes he was 
greeted by a large Indian who stood over him, with 
a prod and a savage declaration that, if he offered to 
make a movement, his brains should instantly be 
blown out. 

Arriving, at length, at the Indian town, Brady was 
exhibited by his captors to the inhabitants, who re- 
ceived him with every demonstration of excessive 
joy. When the first expressions of delight were over, 
the warriors ranged themselves in two long rows, 
and the prisoner was led forth to run the gauntlet. 
The trial was brief, though very severe. He was 
clubbed and thrashed so mercilessly that his flesh 
was pounded to a jelly. His head was beaten almost 
to a shapeless mass, and one cheek was laid open by 
a cruel blow made by a sharp stick of wood. When 
the gauntlet race was over, Brady was led to a stake, 
around which a pile of fagots had been heaped, and 
preparations were made for putting him to the 
torture. 

Before tying him to the stake the Indians, strip- 
ping him naked, unloosed his hands, and placed him 
near the pile. They then kindled a fire and drew 
him directly up to it, in order, no doubt, that he 
might have a foretaste of the torments which were to 
follow ; and, while he stood in the blistering heat, 



234 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



they formed a circle and commenced to dance around 
him. Every one in the village joined in this cere- 
mony, and as they performed the dance, the warriors 
gave utterance to the most fiendish threats and yells, 
while the squaws and children, occasionally leaving 
the circle, struck him with clubs and switches, and 
endeavored to push him over into the fire. 

During these ceremonies, Brady stood calm and 
motionless, meeting every threat and blow of his tor- 
mentors with a fearless eye and an unyielding reso- 
lution. He knew his fate was sealed, but he deter- 
mined to die like a brave man, and, if need be, resist 
savage cruelty with savage fortitude. 

While the dance was at its height, and the yells of 
the Indians were loudest and most fearful, a woman, 
whom Brady knew to be the squaw of one of the 
chiefs, seized a ponderous war-club, left the circle, 
and advanced toward the prisoner. She carried a 
young child on her arm, which, as soon as its mother 
came within the intense heat of the fire, set up a 
piercing cry. As the woman came nearer, a terrible 
thought suddenly flashed across Brady's mind, and 
he made an instinctive movement, but, recovering 
himself, he once more stood quiet, and received the 
blow, which she dealt him, without relaxing a muscle. 
The squaw rejoined the circle, and the company 
danced around the captive with still greater fury. 

A moment afterward the woman again left her 
companions, and, still carrying the child, advanced 
to give Brady another blow. Indignation and re- 
sentment were now so strongly aroused in the un- 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



2 35 



fortunate prisoner, that they held uncontrolled sway, 
and, the moment that the club was raised, he 
pounced upon his tormentor, seized her by the 
throat, and, tearing the child from her arms, quickly 
threw it into the flames. At this action the Indians, 
horror-stricken, suddenly stopped, and each person 
in the crowd, starting forward, as by one thought, 
ran to the rescue. Anticipating this confusion, Brady 
was not slow in taking advantage of it. He instantly 
darted through the circle, overturning all that stood 
in his way, and, running with the utmost fleetness, 
made for the adjoining wood. A host of Indians gave 
chase, but, rinding the fugitive too fleet, all but a 
few stopped, and sent a shower of bullets after him. 
The remainder continued the pursuit, but Brady dis- 
tanced them all, and, when out of sight, concealed 
himself among some laurel bushes in a deep ravine. 
He remained in his hiding-place until night of the 
next day, when he ventured forth and resumed his 
flight. As he was familiar with every part of the 
country, he succeeded in making his way to the set- 
tlements, and, obtaining some clothing at a farm- 
house, set out for Pittsburgh, where he arrived after 
five days' journey. 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



pAPTAIN JOHN BRADY, as we have stated in 
\J the preceding narrative, lived at Shippensburg, 
Pennsylvania, where his two sons, Samuel — afterward 
the noted Captain of the Rangers — and James were 
born. In 1768, he removed, with his family, to North- 
umberland County. Here he remained for a few 
years, and then settled, with a number of other pion- 
eers, in a region on the West Branch of the Susque- 
hanna, which had been obtained by purchase from 
the Indians at the close of the French and Indian 
War. At this place he lived until 1776, when he 
accepted a captaincy in the 12th Pennsylvania Regi- 
ment, and, with , his son James, took the field for 
active service. Both father and son were severely 
wounded in the battle of Brandywine, and being una- 
ble to perform duty, were permitted to return home. 

In order to defend the surrounding country from 
the Indians, who, toward the beginning of the Revo- 
lution, grew very aggressive, Fort Augusta had been 
erected on the river, a few miles from the settlement 
in which Captain Brady lived. This Fort was garri- 
soned by about fifty men, under the command of 
Major Hunter, a meritorious officer. 

Previous to his departure for the wars, Captain 
(236) 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



237 



John Brady had rendered very effective service to his 
brother settlers as one of the most intrepid of the 
soldiers stationed at the fort. On one occasion he 
was selected as a commissioner to effect a treaty with 
the Seneca and Muncie Indians. He visited the vil- 
lages of these tribes, and was received by the warri- 
ors in a friendly manner ; but, not being able to 
arrive at satisfactory terms, he requested them to 
come to the fort, saying that conclusions could be 
reached better on a second interview. The savages 
accepted his invitation, and a few days later paid 
the whites a visit. 

As it was customary to give the Indians presents 
on occasions of this kind, the warriors came ex- 
pecting gifts. The whites were, however, too poor 
to bestow any thing of value, and the Indians there- 
fore stubbornly refused to treat. But, though they 
would not consent to enter into an alliance, they 
left the fort in apparent good humor, assuring the 
garrison that they had no hostile intentions, but, on 
the contrary, earnestly desired to live in peace. Im- 
mediately after their departure, Major Hunter sum- 
moned his officers, in order to consult with them upon 
the plan which should be pursued ; for, although he 
did not suspect the warriors of want of faith, he 
knew that the country was menaced by a large war- 
party of the Delawares, and he feared that other 
tribes might be induced to join the hostile expedition. 

At the instance of Captain Brady, Hunter deter- 
mined to send detachments of soldiers to the points 
which were most exposed, and to dispatch messen- 



238 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

gers to all the neighboring settlements for the pur- 
pose of informing the inhabitants of the state of 
affairs, and advising them to arm; and the various 
parties accordingly set out. Late in the day, Brady 
remembered that one important post, a trading-sta- 
tion, occupied by a Dutchman named Derr, had been 
forgotten, and, mounting a horse, he set out himself 
to carry the information. 

As he approached his destination, Brady saw the 
canoes of the Indians moving backward and forward 
over the stream, at a point near the station. Coming 
nearer, he discovered that the boats were paddled by 
squaws, who were using their utmost endeavors. 
Making his way as cautiously as possible, he reached 
the bank without being perceived, and, from his point 
of observation, he saw that the women on the oppo- 
site side were busy in loading the canoes with the 
rifles, tomahawks, knives, and private effects of the 
warriors, and that, on landing, the women who rowed 
the boats carried the freight into the bushes and 
concealed it. 

Guessing that something was wrong, Brady tied his 
horse, and, watching his opportunity, jumped into a 
canoe, and rowed swiftly across to the station. En- 
tering the yard, he saw the whole party of Indians 
stretched on the ground, brutally drunk. A barrel 
of rum, about half empty, was standing near the door, 
while the proprietor, Frederick Derr, sat in a chair, 
smoking his pipe, as if nothing had happened. Going 
angrily up to Derr, Brady demanded what he meant 
by permitting the Indians to conduct themselves in so 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



239 



beastly a manner. The Dutchman replied, that the 
savages had come to his trading-house with the com- 
plaint that the soldiers at the fort had given them no 
treat; and with the threat that, unless he gave them 
liquor, they would break open his establishment and 
obtain it by force. He had accordingly complied with 
their demand, and rolled out a barrel of rum, telling 
his unceremonious guests to help themselves. 

While Derr was speaking, one of the drunken In- 
dians rose from the ground ; and, staggering toward 
the door, was about to dip a vessel into the rum, when 
Brady interfered, and, overturning the barrel, spilled 
its contents. The Indian, though too much intoxi- 
cated to prevent the action, resented it savagely ; and, 
eying Brady fiercely for a moment, told him that he 
should one day regret what he had done. Repeating 
his threat with still greater fury, he threw himself 
once more on the ground, while Brady, after exchang- 
ing a few words with Derr, took his departure, crossed 
the river, and returned to the fort. 

Captain Brady was too well acquainted with the 
Indian character not to know that the spirit of re- 
venge, when once aroused in the heart of the sav- 
age, can be extinguished by death alone. He was, 
therefore, conscious that the threat of the Indian was 
not an idle one; but that, if he ever had it in his 
power, he would punish the offense by taking the life 
of the offender. For several years afterward, Brady 
accordingly kept constantly on his guard ; but, as he 
was not attacked, he finally concluded that his enemy 
had forgotten the occurrence, and that, if they ever 



240 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



chanced to meet, the savage would not recognize 
him, or else would let him pass. How correct he 
was in this conclusion, our readers shall presently 
hear. 

On the return of John Brady from the army, after 
the battle of Brandy wine, he was given the command 
of a fort which had been built at the mouth of Muncie 
Creek, near the place where Pennsboro' now stands. 
This command he had held for a few months previous* 
to his departure for the regular service; and his re- 
instatement was, therefore, a matter of course. 

James Brady, the second son of Captain John Brady, 
accompanying his father home from camp, was given 
by him an important position at the fort. Though 
under twenty years, he possessed uncommon strength 
and bodily skill, having, indeed, very few equals among 
the grown men of the neighborhood. His ambition 
was to become some day an accomplished soldier, and, 
above all, to gain distinction as an Indian fighter; and 
he was never so well pleased as when he was chosen 
to bear a part in some daring enterprise. He had 
conducted himself with no small credit during- his brief 
experience with the army, and had received a painful 
wound in the right leg at the battle of Brandywine. 
Soon after his return, his brother Samuel, at that time 
on his way with General Broadhead to Pittsburgh, paid 
a visit to his home ; and James, emulous of following 
his example, and of deserving a reward of merit simi- 
lar to that, which had been conferred on him, deter- 
mined that, as soon as his wound healed, he would 
once more enlist in the volunteer service. 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



2 4 1 



In a short time he recovered his health and strength ; 
and, informing his father of his intentions, set about to 
accomplish his purpose. But, as no demand for fresh 
troops had been made for some time on the settle- 
ments, he was obliged to wait until a body of men 
could be organized large enough to compose a respect- 
able volunteer force. 

While lying inactive at the fort, impatient of the 
restraint under which he was placed, he was one day 
informed by a companion that a party of men was 
being organized for the purpose of assisting a farmer 
near the mouth of Loyalsack Creek, a short distance 
up the river, in cradling his field of oats. He imme- 
diately signified his willingness to join the company ; 
and, his proffer being accepted, he set out with the 
men, numbering altogether about twenty, for the field. 

In accordance with a custom prevalent in those 
days, the men who composed the party, before set- 
ting out, proceeded to choose a captain. As there 
was no commissioned officer present, the choice de- 
volved on the bravest and most competent man ; and, 
by the unanimous consent of his companions, James 
Brady was selected to lead the company. 

Arriving on the ground, the rifles were placed in a 
pile at one end of the field, and two men were sta- 
tioned at opposite sides. It was agreed that, in case 
of a surprise by the Indians, the men were to leave 
their work, run to the place where the rifles had been 
laid, and then await the orders of their leader. 

With this understanding, the harvesters set to work 
with a will. The first day passed without incident ; 



242 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



but during the night a strict watch was kept. On the 
second day the harvesting was resumed, and nearly 
completed. The laborers were about to leave their 
work for the day, when one of the sentinels gave a 
shrill cry, and shouted " Indians." Immediately two 
shots were fired from the bushes, but both without 
effect ; for the man, taking to instant flight, succeeded 
in making his escape. 

Without waiting to rally his companions, whom he 
supposed to be no less eager than he himself to re- 
sist the attack, Brady, on hearing the alarm, ran with 
all possible speed for his rifle. He had nearly reached 
the guns, when, casting a glance over his shoulder, he 
saw a band of Indians, headed by a white man, in hot 
pursuit. The instant that he turned, the leader of the 
party fired at him with a pistol ; but, just as the trig- 
ger was pulled, Brady accidentally fell over a sheaf 
of oats, and the ball missed him. He dropped within 
reach of the rifles; and, as the Indians (who supposed 
him to have been killed) rushed forward to take his 
scalp, he grasped a gun, and, aiming it at the first sav- 
age who approached, fired, and laid him dead on the 
ground. Throwing the smoking rifle aside, he seized 
a second piece, and discharged it at the next Indian 
with equal effect. 

To his utter despair and terror, the brave young 
captain now perceived that he was left to contend, 
single-handed and alone, with a host of enemies ; for 
his comrades, instead of repairing to the appointed 
place, had incontinently fled. But, though he knew 
that speedy death would be the inevitable conse- 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



243 



quence of continued resistance, he determined to die 
rather than surrender, and, grasping a third rifle, he 
prepared to die gallantly. 

At the fall of the second Indian, the rest of the 
band, seeing the resolution and heroism of the young 
captain, wavered for a moment, uncertain whether to 
close around him and take him prisoner by the force 
of numbers, or to prevent him from doing further 
mischief by shooting him on the spot. They were 
not left to debate long; for Brady, raising his piece 
without a second's hesitation, discharged it into their 
midst, and a third savage fell bleeding and helpless. 

With a yell of mortification and fury, the Indians 
now sprang forward in a body; and, closing around 
Brady as he was about to cock the fourth rifle, pro- 
ceeded to overcome him by superior force. Brady 
resisted stoutly. He first attempted to club down 
his opponents with his gun, but the weapon was in- 
stantly wrenched from his hands. He then struggled 
violently, hoping to force his way through the crowd ; 
and he so enraged his enemies by the obstinacy of 
his resistance, that one of them finally drew a toma- 
hawk, and struck him a stunning blow, felling him to 
the ground. The scalp was then torn from his head, 
and the Indians left him lying in apparent death. 

Although, to all appearance, there was not a spark 
of life in Brady's body after he had received the blow 
from the tomahawk, and while the scalp was being 
plucked from his head, he was, nevertheless, perfectly 
sensible. He was so powerless that he could not 
move a limb, but he felt and suffered as keenly as if 



244 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



he possessed entire control of all his bodily energies. 
No words can tell the agony which he endured while 
he lay beneath the knife of the. Indian, suffering every 
torment of life and death. So fully did he retain his 
senses, that he was able to see the scalp after it was 
taken from him, and to distinguish the words of exul- 
tation uttered by the Indians, who regarded it as a 
trophy, on account of its long and luxuriant growth 
of hair. 

Leaving their victim, the savages made off across 
the field. But they had not gone far when they 
turned and came back to secure the guns which still 
lay where the whites had placed them. Casting a 
glance at Brady, one of the savages told his com- 
panions that he still showed signs of life ; and an 
Indian youth was accordingly ordered to dispatch 
him. The boy seized one of the large tomahawks 
of the warriors, and, uttering the Indian war-whoop, 
struck it into Brady's head in four separate places. 
Satisfied at length of the death of their enemy, the 
warriors picked up the rifles and once more took 
their departure. 

In the course of about half an hour young Brady 
revived, and, creeping on hands and knees, made a 
shift to reach a small cabin, occupied by an old man 
who had been employed to cook for the working 
party. Twice, in the course of his painful progress, 
he fell to the ground, fainting from loss of blood, but 
he finally succeeded in his attempt ; and, arriving at 
the door of the hut, called to its owner for assist- 
ance. The old man, on hearing the report of the 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



245 



guns, had concealed himself, but, recognizing Brady's 
voice, he now left his hiding-place and came to him. 

Informing the man of the strength of the Indians, 
Brady begged him to fly to the fort, saying that the 
red-skins would soon be back and would kill him. 
This request was disregarded ; and, as remonstrance 
proved useless, Brady desired the old man to carry 
him to the river. He gladly complied, and laying the 
youth down on the bank, brought him water in his 
hat, which he drank in large quantities. Brady still 
entreated his friend to fly and save himself, but he still 
refused. He then requested him to load the gun in 
the cabin and bring it to him. This was done, and, 
taking the rifle in his hands, Brady turned on his side 
and sank, apparently, into deep sleep. 

Suddenly a noise was heard in the wood behind, 
and the young captain, instantly aroused, sprang to 
his feet, and, ordering his companion to conceal him- 
self in the bushes, stood guard. In a moment a 
horseman emerged from the trees, and soon after a 
troop of mounted men appeared. Conjecturing that 
the horsemen were soldiers who had been sent in 
pursuit of the Indians, Brady called to them. They 
came to him, and, after hearing his story, quickly con- 
structed a rude litter, and, stretching him on it, bore 
him as rapidly as possible to the fort. 

For four days after his return, the young captain 
lay insensible and delirious. On the fifth day he re- 
covered his senses, and, calling his father to him, 
related, with the greatest minuteness, every inci- 
dent connected with his remarkable adventure. To- 



# 



246 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



ward evening he died, deeply regretted by all within 
the fort, as well as by every one in the settlements. 

In his description of the Indian attack, Brady 
stated that the savages were of the Seneca tribe, 
and were led by a warrior whom he personally knew 
to be the celebrated chief Bald Eagle, from whom 
certain creeks and a high ridge, so-called, derive 
their name. Another Indian was known by Brady's 
description to be the chief Corn-planter. Both of 
these warriors were among the most famous of the 
Indian braves; and vengeance, "not loud but deep," 
was breathed against them. 

It may interest our readers to know that, a few 
years after this occurrence, the death of James Brady 
was bloodily avenged by his brother Samuel, the 
captain of the Rangers. To retaliate on the Indians 
for some of their depredations, a large force was led 
against them by General Broadhead in person. The 
command of the advance guard was intrusted to Sam- 
uel Brady. At a point on the Alleghany River, 
which has since been named Brady's Bend, a large 
war-party of the Senecas was encountered. An en- 
gagement followed, and during the battle, Captain 
Brady recognized the chief, Bald Eagle, leading a 
band of warriors through a narrow pass. He fired, 
but did not know the result of his shot until after- 
ward, when, going to the spot, he found the Eagle's 
dead body. A ball had pierced the Indian's heart; 
and the blood of the brave young captain of Loyal- 
sack was fatally and righteously avenged. 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



247 



The murder of young James Brady, by the Indi- 
ans, occurred on the 9th day of August, 1778. For 
a short time afterward the settlements enjoyed com- 
parative quiet; but, in the following spring, war 
broke out along the entire frontier line ; and, in order 
to render the country secure, it was found necessary 
to garrison the forts with increased forces of brave 
and active men. 

The post of which Captain John Brady had the 
command was situated in a part of the country 
which was much exposed to attack. At his urgent 
request a body of troops was sent from one of the 
forts above to increase the garrison ; and, on the 
arrival of this company, Captain Brady felt assured 
that, with the assistance of the neighboring settlers, 
the force under his command was fully adequate to 
the protection of the strip of country which he was 
required to guard. 

Before many weeks had passed, the supplies of the 
garrison ran short, and Captain Brady, mounting his 
horse, and taking with him a wagon, team, and guard, 
started out, on the nth day of April, 1779, toward 
Fort Augusta, to obtain additional quantities. Hav- 
ing loaded his wagon with all that could be had, he 
^ set out, early in the afternoon, to return. The wagon, 
surrounded by a guard of six men, took the lead, 
and the captain followed at some distance, accom- 
panied by a comrade named Peter Smith. 

When they arrived within a mile or two of the fort, 

the road forked, and the wagon, still keeping the lead, 

followed the direct course. Captain Brady, however, 
15 



248 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



turned his horse into the other path, remarking to his 
companion, as he did so, that the way was shorter, 
and that, though the road was not so much frequented, 
he had very little fear of Indians. 

Conversing on various subjects, Brady and Smith 
journeyed on leisurely until they came to a small run, 
near the place where the two roads joined, a short 
distance below the fort. Just before reaching this 
point, the conversation had taken a mournful turn. 
Captain Brady referred in terms of the deepest mel- 
ancholy to the death of his son James; and, speaking 
of the brutality and villainy of the Indians, he de- 
scribed the incident which had occurred several years 
before at Derr's Station, where the drunken Indian 

had sworn vengeance. He said that he had Ioni- 
cs £> 

given up all fear of again meeting the savage, but 
that, should he chance to encounter him, he would 
have no difficulty in recognizing him on account of a 
deep scar on his cheek. 

Crossing the run, Brady, stopping his horse for a 
moment, glanced to the side of the road, and re- 
marked to his companion that the wildness of the 
place would be very favorable to an Indian attack. 
Smith answered "Yes," and the captain again started 
his horse. The animal had, however, made scarcely 
half a dozen steps, when three rifles were suddenly 
heard in quick succession. One of the balls grazed 
Smith's forehead ; another hit his horse, which in- 
stantly fell with its rider. The third struck Captain 
Brady, who, relaxing his hold of the bridle, dropped 
lifeless in the road. 



JOHN AND JAMES BRADY. 



249 



Disentangling himself from his fallen horse, Smith 
rose, and springing on Brady's steed, which came 
dashing past at that moment, he rode swiftly away. 
When at the distance of a few yards, he turned round 
and saw that two of the Indians were standing by the 
side of the road, reloading their guns, evidently with 
the hope of getting another shot at him. The third 
was standing over the dead captain, holding a bloody 
scalp in his hand. Although he had but a moment's 
glance, Smith saw that this Indian answered the de- 
scription which Brady had given of the one who had 
threatened his life ; for he could plainly see that he 
had a long and very prominent scar on his right cheek. 

Pursuing his flight, Smith arrived, in a few minutes, 
at the fort. He was met by a throng of people, fore- 
most among whom was the dead man's wife. In 
reply to the anxious inquiries for Captain Brady, 
Smith said that he was "in heaven or hell, or else 
on the way to Tioga," meaning that he was either 
dead or a prisoner; and added, that all who were in- 
quisitive might go and ascertain for themselves. 

The men composing the garrison ran to the spot. 
The wagon-guard, who had also been attracted by 
the firing, were found lifting the dead body from the 
ground. The captain's scalp was taken off, and his 
rifle was gone; but the Indians had not mutilated his 
body, and they had evidently neglected to search his 
pockets, for his watch and valuables were found un- 
disturbed. 

Thus died Captain John Brady, the victim of a ma- 
lignant Indian's revenge. The intelligence of his 



25O THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

death was carried to his son, Captain Samuel Brady, 
at Pittsburgh, who immediately took a solemn oath 
that he would consecrate the remainder of his life to 
avenging the blood of his father and his brave young 
brother. How well this oath was kept, we have 
already seen. Few names are more celebrated in 
the early annals of Western Pennsylvania than that 
of Brady ; and to this day it is spoken with the great- 
est admiration and enthusiasm by the old settlers. 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



THE name and fame of Lewis Weitzel, the re- 
nowned and intrepid warrior and hunter, are 
inseparably connected with the history of early civili- 
zation in the West. Between the years 1782 and 
1795, this bold adventurer was to the settlers of 
Virginia what Boone and Kenton had been to those 
of Kentucky, and Brady to those of Western Penn- 
sylvania. At the present day, the story of his ex- 
ploits reads like the most extravagant romance ; and 
it seems scarcely credible that any man could have 
been endowed with physical powers capable of ac- 
complishing the extraordinary feats which have been 
ascribed to him. Certain it is, he had no equal 
among the pioneers of his part of the country ; and, 
for his wonderful success as a spy, hunter, and woods- 
man, was, for upward of twelve years, regarded by 
the settlers as their right arm of defense. 

The father of Lewis was John Weitzel, one of 
the first settlers of Wheeling Creek, West Virginia. 
His family consisted of five sons and two daugh- 
ters, named respectively : Martin, Lewis, Jacob, John, 
George, Susan, and Christina. The first four of the 
sons lived to maturity; and all became famous as 
bold frontiersmen and as Indian hunters of the most 



252 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



unrivaled courage, enterprise, and audacity. The 
astonishing adventures of Lewis threw the exploits 
of his brothers into the shade ; but some of the per- 
formances of Martin, Jacob, and John are very re- 
markable, and well worthy of record. 

John Weitzel, the father of the boys, was one of 
the boldest and most enterprising of the early pio- 
neers. He was a man absolutely without fear; and 
in all of the Indian wars, up to the time of his death, 
bore a part of great distinction and usefulness, — never 
returning from an expedition without bringing some 
token of his prowess. He spent a great deal of his 
time in locating lands, hunting, and fishing; and, 
though his neighbors frequently entreated him to 
leave his dangerous occupation, and to cease to ex- 
pose himself so recklessly to attack, he disregarded 
all of their admonitions, saying that a brave man 
disdains to employ the precautionary methods of the 
timorous. His courage, however, was greater than 
his prudence, as will be shown in its proper place. 

Settling at Wheeling Creek, Mr. Weitzel rashly 
built his cabin at some distance from the fort, and 
moved his family into it. He was several times 
urged by his friends to leave his isolated situation, 
and come within cover of the palisades ; but he re- 
fused to comply, until one day a sweeping calamity 
forcibly represented to him the extreme folly of his 
conduct, carrying with it, at the same time, the most 
terrible consequences of delay and neglect. 

On the afternoon of a fine midsummer day of the 
year 1774, John Weitzel took his nets and rifle, and, 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 253 

launching his canoe, started for a fishing and hunting 
excursion up the river. He was accompanied by his 
eldest son Martin, a stout and active youth of sev- 
enteen. The rest of the family were left at the cabin 
under the charge of Lewis, at that time about thir- 
teen years old. 

Soon after his departure, Mrs. Weitzel called her 
boy John, and sent him on an errand to the fort, bid- 
ding him to return quickly. As the Indians had not 
been very turbulent in the immediate neighborhood 
for some months, and as it was still broad daylight, 
she did not feel any uneasiness for her family's safety ; 
but, knowing that her husband intended to be away 
during the night, she determined to take every neces- 
sary precaution against the evening ; and, motioning 
to Lewis, who was in the yard chopping wood, she 
ordered him to take the three rifles from the chimney- 
piece, and load them carefully. Lewis obeyed ; and, 
standing two of the guns by the door, took the third 
and stepped out of the house to practice shooting at 
the target. 

Holding the gun in his hand, the lad stopped for a 
moment on the threshold to watch his brother Jacob, 
who was playing in the grass. Hearing a slight noise, 
he suddenly lifted his eyes, and, looking in the direc- 
tion from which it seemed to proceed, he saw the 
muzzle of a gun protruding from behind a tree. He 
instantly jumped to one side ; but, before he had time 
to save himself, the rifle was discharged, and a bullet 
struck him on the breast-bone. By the greatest good 
fortune, it did not have a fatal effect. It carried away, 



254 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



however, a piece of the bone, and made a fearful gash 
athwart the chest, producing a severely painful wound. 

Instantly after the report of the rifle, the woods rang 
with a hideous yell, and before Lewis had time to re- 
cover his gun, which had dropped from his grasp, two 
large Indian warriors sprang forward with uplifted 
tomahawks. While one of them secured the two 
youths, the other entered the house; and, knocking 
aside a rifle which Mrs. Weitzel was about to aim at 
his breast, raised his weapon, and quickly severed her 
head from her body. He then tomahawked her aged 
father and her three young children ; and, rejoining 
his companions, seized Lewis by the hand, and led 
him and his brother Jacob into the wood. 

For two days the Indians traveled with all speed 
through the wilderness. On the morning of the sec- 
ond day, they reached the Ohio, and, crossing it near 
the mouth of McMahan's Creek, continued their 
march, reaching the Big Lick, about twenty miles 
from the river, toward evening. Although young 
Weitzel's wound pained him terribly, he conducted 
himself with exemplary courage, making no complaint, 
and cheering on his younger brother, telling him that, 
if he made good speed, the Indians would treat him 
well ; but that the moment he lagged they would kill 
and scalp him without mercy. 

On the evening of this day the Indians encamped, 
and lay down with their prisoners. But, contrary to 
custom, they neglected to bind the captives ; and they 
were no sooner asleep than Lewis, taking advantage 
of this singular omission, stirred his brother, and, tell- 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 257 



ing him to preserve the most studied silence, took his 
hand, and led him gently away. The savages did not 
move, and the two boys soon reached a safe distance. 
They were making off at the height of their speed, 
when Lewis suddenly stopped, and informed his 
brother that they had forgotten their moccasins. He 
told him to wait while he returned to secure them. 
Going back to the camp, the brave lad found the In- 
dians still asleep, and, snatching up the moccasins, 
once more turned to fly. He was unperceived, and 
soon rejoined his brother. The moccasins were fitted 
on, when Lewis, again telling his brother to remain 
quietly where he was, once more went back to the 
camp. His purpose this time was to secure a rifle ; 
for he knew the Indians had three, since they had 
taken one from his father's house. He readily pro- 
cured the weapon, and, as the savages did not move, 
succeeded a third time in making his escape. Flying 
through the thick woods, the boys soon came to the 
path which they had followed the day before, and, 
traveling briskly, they were in a short time well on 
their way. 

Toward morning, Lewis, who had kept constantly 
on the alert for his pursuers, heard a crashing noise 
at some distance behind. Seizing his brother by the 
arm, he whispered to him to steal cautiously into the 
bushes. Jacob obeyed, and Lewis followed quickly 
after him, covering up their tracks, as he did so, with 
some dry leaves. A moment later, the Indians came 
rushing along the path at a furious rate, muttering 
volleys of savage oaths. When they had passed, 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Lewis touched his brother's arm, and, taking the 
trail, continued the journey. Before long, they heard 
the savages returning, and they again stepped aside, 
once more eluding capture. A short time before day- 
break, they were followed by two Indians on horse- 
back ; but, resorting to a similar expedient, the boys 
deceived their captors for the third time. During the 
day, they journeyed without seeing or hearing any 
thing of their enemies ; and, reaching the Ohio about 
noon, they lashed two logs firmly together, and 
crossed. They soon made their way to a settle- 
ment, and, in the course of another day, were re- 
stored to their friends. 

The success of young Weitzel in this very remarka- 
ble adventure gained for him a great deal of applause 
among the settlers. All were agreed in saying that 
his pluck and heroism were something quite extraor- 
dinary; and that, both for his boldness, and for the 
cleverness which he displayed in eluding capture, it 
was evident that he united every element of the cour- 
ageous and successful adventurer. 

As he grew older, it became apparent that he was 
destined to pass through a most useful and active 
career. At the age of seventeen, he had no match 
among the settlers as a marksman; and he was able 
to contend successfully in bodily exercises with the 
most stalwart pioneers of Western Virginia. While 
a boy, he acquired the practice of loading his rifle 
while running, and he thus gained a double advan- 
tage over his enemies ; for, in case of pursuit, he was 
enabled to thwart the most active enemy. How quick 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 259 

and expert he was in this difficult exercise, and how 
valuable it proved to him, the following story will 
illustrate : 

In the year 1783, shortly after William Crawford's 
defeat by the Indians, a man named Thomas Mills, 
one of the fugitives of that disastrous expedition, 
reached the Indian Spring, a place about nine miles 
from Wheeling. As the country was too rough to 
go further on horseback, he left his horse tied to a 
tree, and went on foot to the settlement. After a 
day's rest, he started to return ; but, knowing that 
the journey would be very dangerous, he induced 
Lewis Weitzel, — who was then about nineteen years 
old, — to go with him. Arriving at the spring, Mills 
proceeded to unloose the animal; but, before he had 
accomplished his purpose, Weitzel suddenly yelled 
to him to place himself on his guard, and immedi- 
ately afterward discharged his piece at an Indian 
whom he had discovered peeping from behind a 
tree. The shot took effect, and the savage fell 
dead. This act was followed by a volley of bul- 
lets, fired by a war-party concealed in the bushes; 
and, before Weitzel had time to reload his gun, a 
band of about forty Indians rushed forward. Look- 
ing round for his companion, Weitzel discovered him 
lying motionless on the ground ; and, knowing that 
his own death or capture would instantly follow, 
unless he had the good fortune to save himself, he 
made a quick bound, dashed through the throng of 
Indians, and started off at the full extent of his 
speed. 



26o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



He was not, however, destined to escape without 
making a strenuous effort; for he had no sooner 
commenced his flight than four of the fleetest In- 
dians of the party dropped their guns, and followed 
in pursuit. Weitzel was justly accounted a young 
man of almost unrivaled activity; and, although he 
had but a few feet the start, he soon succeeded in 
placing a distance of several yards between himself 
and the foremost Indian. After running for about 
half a mile, he became conscious that his pursuer 
was steadily gaining on him ; and, turning his head, 
he saw the savage, only a few feet behind, straining 
every muscle. Fearing that his enemy might throw 
his tomahawk, Weitzel, having by this time loaded 
his gun, quickly wheeled, and shot him dead in his 
tracks. The three remaining Indians, who were 
some distance behind, gave a loud yell, and bounded 
forward at full speed, thinking that, since the white 
man's gun was empty, he could do them no further 
harm. Weitzel now had no fear of being taken ; for 
he regarded the rest of the party, compared with the 
first Indian, as mere laggards, and, slackening his 
speed, he quickly reloaded his gun, preparing to give 
his pursuers another proof of his skill in tactics. 

After running for another half mile, the second 
Indian came up, and Weitzel turned to shoot. But, 
to his great disgust, he found that the fellow had 
made such speed that he was immediately on his 
heels ; and, as he raised the rifle, the Indian caught 
the muzzle with both hands, striving to wrench it from 
his grasp. An earnest struggle now followed for the 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



26l 



possession of the weapon. The savage was very 
large, sinewy and dexterous, and, exerting all his 
strength, he finally succeeded in bringing his oppo- 
nent to the ground. Following up his advantage, he 
attempted to take possession of the gun, but Weitzel, 
making a quick movement, succeeded, just at the crit- 
ical instant, in recovering himself, and, jerking the 
piece from the Indian's grasp, placed the muzzle 
against his breast and fired. The warrior gave a 
heavy groan, and dropped dead on the spot. 

The two savages who remained continued the 
pursuit. By this time, however, both they and the 
fugitive were very tired, and the chase was not so 
animated as it had been. In a few moments Weitzel 
had again charged his gun, and as he was anxious to 
put an end to the business, he faced about and 
raised it to shoot. The two Indians dodged, and 
concealed themselves behind trees. W eitzel re- 
sumed his flight, and they followed in pursuit. He 
again stopped and they again treed; and they ran 
on in this way for two or three miles, until Weitzel, 
thoroughly exasperated, suddenly turned and fired 
at one of the Indians just as he was taking cover. 
The ball took effect in the man's thigh, and produced 
a wound which, as Weitzel learned afterward, proved 
fatal. At his comrade's fall, the fourth Indian gave 
a little shriek, and cried in a manner which threw 
Weitzel into convulsions of laughter, (( A r o catch dat 
man; him gun always loaded " running off as he did 
so, glad, doubtless, to escape with his life. In this 
extraordinary adventure, Weitzel killed three Indi- 



262 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



ans and mortally wounded a fourth. He escaped 
without harm, and arrived home in a few hours with 
the report of his remarkable achievement. 

During the next four years Weitzel passed most 
of his time in hunting and fishing. In this period 
he had many adventures of a most exciting nature, 
and his name gradually came to be known and feared 
by the Indian tribes throughout Virginia. It was 
not, however, until the year 1787, that he became 
an avowed Indian hunter, and commenced his advent- 
urous career in earnest. The incident which was 
immediately instrumental in transforming him from 
the careless trapper and woodsman into the deter- 
mined and terrible avenger of blood, may be told in 
brief, as follows : 

His father, John Weitzel, as our readers have 
already been informed, was a man of the most reck- 
less and desperate valor and daring. In pursuit of 
his occupation, that of hunter and surveyor, he fre- 
quently went on long journeys without a single com- 
panion, and was never attended by more than one or 
two friends. One day, while returning in a canoe, 
with one companion, from an excursion to Middle Island 
Creek, he was hailed by a large party of Indians, 
and ordered to put ashore. Without making a re- 
ply he headed his boat for the middle of the stream, 
and, with his companion, used every effort to escape. 
The Indians fired on the instant, and one of their 
balls struck Weitzel in the body, wounding him mor- 
tally. Knowing that, under any circumstances, he 
must soon die from the effects of the shot, Weitzel, 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 263 

true to his noble and heroic spirit, ordered his com- 
panion to lie down in the canoe, and then, working 
the paddles with renewed vigor, although his life 
was ebbing fast, pulled for the opposite shore. The 
Indians fired another volley, but, fortunately, without 
effect, and before they had time to discharge a third, 
the boat was out of range. Weitzel expired soon 
after reaching the bank, and was buried by his com- 
panion. His grave may still be seen near the old 
fortress, called Baker's Station. It is marked by a 
rough stone, on which is written in rough, though 
distinct characters, the inscription, " J. W., 1787." 

On receiving the news of his father's death, Lewis 
Weitzel, in common with his three brothers, sol- 
emnly swore sleepless vengeance against the whole In- 
dian race. Lewis was, at this time, about twenty-three 
years old, and in the prime of his manhood. En- 
dowed with a will as inflexible as his bodily powers 
were vigorous, few could have been better adapted 
to carry a resolution of this kind into effect; and at 
no time during his subsequent life did he forget the 
oath which he had taken, while the vengeance which 
he wrought was terrible indeed. A few incidents in 
his life will serve to illustrate the boldness and firm- 
ness of his spirit, and to point out at once what was 
good and what was bad in his character. The fol- 
lowing account of his adventures has been written 
more to secure this object than to form a continuous 
and accurate narrative of his career; and it is hoped 
that whatever deficiencies it may have in point of 
chronological arrangement, will be overlooked in view 



264 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



of the much greater importance of the subject-matter 
itself, which has been drawn from the most reliable 
sources, and all of which can be depended upon as 
scrupulously truthful and thoroughly authentic. 

A few weeks after the murder of John Weitzel, 
the Indians became very troublesome in the neigh- 
borhood of the Wheeling settlement, and, one of their 
parties having killed a man at a place called Mingo 
Bottom, it was decided to take vigorous measures 
against them. An expedition was accordingly formed 
and dispatched, under Major McMahan; and, in order 
to stimulate the men to use every possible effort, a 
subscription purse of one hundred dollars was made 
up and offered as a reward to the man who should 
bring in the first Indian scalp. 

On being requested to join the band, Lewis Weit- 
zel promptly consented, telling- his comrades that, 
though he expected before long to claim and receive 
the reward, he thought less of the profits of the un- 
dertaking than of the satisfaction which he expected 
to derive in encountering the rascally red-skins. The 
party, numbering about twenty men, crossed the 
river, and, marching rapidly in the direction of the 
Muskingum, soon penetrated the heart of the wil- 
derness. 

Striking a broad Indian trail, a detachment of five 
men was sent forward to reconnoiter. This detach- 
ment, after an absence of a few hours, returned, and 
reported that the savages were encamped directly 
ahead, but that their numbers were far too great to 
warrant an attack; adding that the best which could 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



265 



be done, under the circumstances, was to return im- 
mediately, since the Indians, doubtless, had runners 
scattered throughout the country, who would discover 
the pursuing party and carry word quickly to the 
main body. Taking counsel with a few of his friends, 
McMahan determined to give over the enterprise, 
and accordingly ordered a retreat. 

While the discussion was going on, Weitzel sat 
quietly on a log, carelessly resting his rifle on his 
knees, and listening with an amused expression to 
the various arguments which were offered. As soon 
as it was decided to return, nearly all of the party set 
off in impetuous haste, and Weitzel's amused look 
changed to an expression of the most thorough dis- 
gust. As he did not move, McMahan turned to 
him and asked him whether he intended to join his 
comrades. "No," he sullenly replied; "I came out 
to hunt Indians, and now that they are found, I am 
not going home, like a fool, with my fingers in my 
mouth. I am determined to take an Indian scalp, or 
lose my own." At this answer his companions looked 
at him for a moment in amazement, but, seeing that 
he was in earnest, they attempted to argue with him, 
representing to him the extreme folly of his course. 
He would not, however, listen to any words, and, 
bidding him adieu, they soon took a hasty departure. 

When the men were gone, Weitzel arose, and, 
gathering his blanket around him, adjusted his toma- 
hawk and scalping-knife, examined and shouldered his 
rifle, and then started cff alone, pursuing the course 
which his companions had abandoned. Thoroughlv 



266 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



acquainted with every feature of Indian warfare, he 
advanced with all the caution of the experienced 
hunter, avoiding all of the large streams, and peering 
into every dell and cover, keenly alive to all sounds 
and appearances of a doubtful nature. He met with 
no adventure during the first day, and as evening 
came on, satisfying himself that there was no danger 
of being discovered, he lay down to sleep. 

The night air was very cold, and Weitzel soon 
awoke, chilled to the bone. As he knew that there 
were enemies in the neighborhood, he did not venture 
to light a fire, but, resorting to an expedient as novel 
as it was ingenious, he soon succeeded in producing a 
good substitute. He made a small coal pit out of 
bark, dried leaves, and other materials, and covering 
the heap with some loose earth, leaving an air-hole or 
two, he lighted the combustibles and encircled the pit 
with his legs. He thus got the benefit of a fire with- 
out showing a light, and, covering the upper part of 
his body with his blanket, he soon sank into an agree- 
able sleep. 

On the next morning, Weitzel resumed his hunt 
for Indians. After traveling for many hours over 
a large extent of country without seeing any signs, 
he came, at length, to a small clearing, and, to his 
great joy, discovered, at a short distance, a column 
of smoke rising through the trees. Going quickly to 
the spot from which the smoke ascended, he found a 
camp, though no Indians. On the ground, near the 
fire, were two blankets and a small kettle, and, guess- 
ing that they were the property of two Indians absent 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



267 



on the hunt, he concealed himself and patiently 
awaited developments. In a short time, one of the 
savages came in, and, stirring the fire, went about 
to prepare his supper. His companion arrived about 
ten minutes later. They ate their meal, and then 
commenced to amuse themselves by singing and tell- 
ing stories. They seemed to be in a very mirthful 
mood, and their grimaces and extravagant bursts of 
laughter afforded Weitzel no small entertainment. 
He might easily have shot both of them while they 
sat helpless and utterly incapable of defense, or 
rolled on the ground convulsed with merriment. But 
he preferred to wait for awhile and watch their move- 
ments. 

About ten o'clock, one of the savages took his 
rifle and wrapped his blanket around him, telling his 
companion that he was going to a lick on a small 
stream near at hand to watch for deer. His depart- 
ure was a source of considerable vexation to Weitzel, 
who had laid his plans so as to kill both ; but, hoping 
that the Indian would return before morning, he de- 
termined to leave the other one unmolested until his 
absent comrade again put in an appearance. Many 
hours passed, and the Indian did not return. Finally 
the birds in the trees commenced to chirp, indicating 
that the day was near at hand. Longer delay was 
intolerable, and Weitzel concluded to put an end 
to the adventure at once. He walked into the 
camp, and stealing up to the Indian, who lay sleep- 
ing on one side, he drew his knife and drove it 
with the utmost force into his body. The blow was 



268 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



well-directed, and the blade penetrated the heart, 
for the victim uttered no sound, but gave only a short, 
convulsive quiver, and then lay motionless in death. 
Weitzel quickly took his scalp, and, setting out on 
his return, made such speed that he arrived at Mingo 
Bottom only one day after his companions. Showing 
the scalp of the Indian, he claimed his reward, which 
was immediately paid to him. 

Among the most celebrated exploits of Weitzel, 
was his massacre of three savages while on one of 
his fall hunts. Traveling through the forest, near the 
bank of the Muskingum River, he fell, one night, upon 
a camp of four Indians. In spite of the great odds 
necessarily attending the attempt, he determined to 
rush into their midst, and, while they lay asleep, 
dispatch them. The adventure is thus related by 
one of Weitzel's biographers : 

"At the hour of midnight he moved cautiously 
from his covert, and, gliding through the darkness, 
stealthily approached the camp, supporting his rifle 
in one hand and a tomahawk in the other. A dim 
flicker from the camp-fire faintly revealed the forms 
of the sleepers, wrapped in that profound slumber 
which, to part of them, was to know no waking. 
There they lay, with their dark faces turned up to the 
night-sky, in the deep solitude of their own wilder- 
ness, little dreaming that their most relentless enemy 
was hovering over them. Quietly resting his gun 
against a tree, he unsheathed his knife, and, with an 
intrepidity that could never be surpassed, stepped 
boldly forward, like the minister of death, and, quick 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



269 



as thought, cleft the skull of one of his sleeping vic- 
tims. In an instant a second one was similarly served ; 
and as a third attempted to rise, confused by the 
horrid yells with which Weitzel accompanied his 
blows, he too shared the fate of his companions, and 
sank dead at the feet of his ruthless slayer. The 
fourth darted into the darkness of the wood and es- 
caped, although Weitzel pursued him some distance. 
Returning to camp, he scalped his victims, and then 
left for home. When asked, on his return, what 
luck? "Not much," he replied. "I treed four Indians, 
but one got away." This unexampled achievement 
stamped him as one of the most daring and, at the 
same time, successful hunters of his day. The dis- 
tance to and from the scene of this adventure could 
not have been less than one hundred and seventy 
miles." 

In illustration of the profound sagacity of this 
bold hunter, the two following incidents are com- 
mended to the attention of the reader : 

The Indians had a practice of decoying hunters 
and woodsmen by imitating the cry of the wild turkey, 
which some of them uttered to perfection. In the 
neighborhood of Wheeling Creek, two or three men, 
who had gone out to hunt, upon hearing this decep- 
tive call, had never returned, and, though the turkey 
decoy was not known among the settlers at that time, 
Weitzel, reflecting upon the matter, became con- 
vinced that the disappearance of the hunters was 
owing to some such cause. 

Keeping on the alert for two or three days after- 



* 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



ward, Weitzel heard the turkey-call several times, and, 
remarking that it came from a single direction, he de- 
termined to investigate matters. He knew that, on 
the hill from which the sound came, there was a large 
cavern, whose entrance was very narrow and entirely 
concealed by a thick growth of bushes. Hoping to 
get a shot at an Indian before breakfast, he shoul- 
dered his gun one morning about day-break, and, 
climbing the hill, took a circuitous route, reached the 
spot, and posted himself behind a tree in front of the 
opening of the cave. 

In the course of about half an hour his vigilance was 
rewarded. The twisted tuft of a warrior was thrust 
from the opening, and the savage, after peering 
cautiously around, uttered the long, shrill, and pecul- 
iar cry, and then drew back into the darkness of the 
cave. Weitzel placed himself in readiness, cocked 
his gun, rested its muzzle on the ledge of a rock, 
and awaited expectantly the second appearance of 
the Indian. Presently the tuft was again thrust forth, 
and the warrior, straining his head forward, prepared 
to utter the deceptive cry. Scarcely had he given the 
first note, when Weitzel pulled the trigger of his rifle 
and sent a bullet into his brain. The Indian fell 
sprawling on the ground, and the successful hunter, 
taking his scalp, set out for home, well satisfied with 
the issue of the morning's adventure. On the way 
he met two men from the fort, who, hearing the cry, 
had taken their rifles and started out with the hope 
of killing game. In reply to their inquiries, Weitzel 
told them that they had best return, since he had 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



271 



been ahead of them and taken all the game that was 
to be found in the neighborhood. He then showed 
the scalp of the Indian and related his adventure. 
Tradition does not say whether the turkey decoy was 
employed afterward by the Indians in the neighbor- 
hood of Wheeling Creek, but it is certain that no 
more incautious hunters were entrapped by it.* 

Another incident which strikingly illustrates the 
great sagacity and cunning of Lewis Weitzel is thus 
related by the writer from whom we have already 
quoted : 

" Returning homeward from a hunt north of the 
Ohio, somewhat fatigued and a little careless of his 
movements, he suddenly espied an Indian in the 
very act of raising his gun to fire. Both immedi- 
ately sprang to trees ; and here they stood for an 
hour, each afraid of the other. What was to be 
done? To remain there during the whole day — for 
it was then early in the morning — was out of the 
question. Now it was that the sagacity of Weitzel 
displayed itself over the child-like simplicity of the 
savage. Cautiously adjusting his bear-skin cap to 
the end of his ramrod — with the slightest, most du- 
bious, and hesitating motion, as though afraid to 
venture a glance, the cap protruded. An instant, a 
crack, and off was torn the fatal cap by the sure ball 
of the vigilant savage. Leaping from his retreat, our 
hero rapidly advanced upon the astonished Indian, 
and, ere the tomahawk could be brought to its work 

* A similar story is told in Hall's " Romance of Western History," of Captain William 
Linn. 



272 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



of death, the tawny foe sprang convulsively into the 
air, and, straightening as he descended, fell on his 
face, quite dead." 

The incident in Lewis Weitzel's life which gave 
him the most trouble, and which has ever since been 
the means of reflecting discredit upon his name, with 
a certain class of people, was the shooting by him 
and Veach Dickerson of the Indian George Wash- 
ington, at the time of General Harmar's expedition, 
pending negotiations for a peace. Although no jus- 
tification can fully exonerate him from blame for his 
conduct on this occasion, and although the harsh 
measures taken against him by the military authori- 
ties for his part in the affair were, according to the 
principles of strict justice, entirely warranted by the 
circumstances of the case, the judgment of reason 
is that his action was not wholly inexcusable, and 
that General Harmar's extreme want of leniency did 
very little credit to that officer's judicial character. 
Of these things, however, we shall have more to say 
further on. The following is believed to be an accu- 
rate version of the affair: 

About the year 1789, General Harmar — so cele- 
brated in Western history for his part in the unfort- 
unate expedition which bears his name — erected a 
fort at the mouth of the Muskingum River, where 
Marietta now stands. Wishing to obtain the co- 
operation of the neighboring Indian tribes, he sent 
a party of white men with a flag of truce to propose 
a conference. In response to Harmar's proposal, a 
large body of warriors came, on the general invita- 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 273 



tion, and encamped on the Muskingum, a few miles 
above its mouth. Negotiations followed, and General 
Harmar issued a proclamation ordering a cessation of 
arms among the whites. 

On hearing of Harmar's order, Weitzel, who under- 
stood the methods of war better than the laws and 
obligations of peace, declared that the general was 
either a coward or a fool. Treaties, he said, had fre- 
quently been concluded with the red-skins, but the 
Indian nature was treacherous in the extreme, and 
faith had never been kept. He demanded of his com- 
panions whether they would submit to see their vil- 
lainous enemies given an advantage by which they 
could carry every hostile design which they might 
have into execution. He declared that he, for his 
part, would not recognize General Harmar's authority, 
but would continue to fight Indians as before ; and, if 
the general had aught to say against his conduct, he 
would take care that every thing should be right. 

In fulfillment of the resolution which he had formed, 
Weitzel proposed to one of his comrades, Veach Dick- 
erson, that they should go to Fort Harmar, conceal 
themselves on the road between the fort and the camp, 
and, lying in wait, kill the first Indian who made his 
appearance. An opportunity, he said, would soon 
offer, since it was natural to suppose that parties were 
constantly passing to and from the fort. Leaving the 
settlement at Mingo Bottom, — where Weitzel was 
living at that time, — the two friends set out on their 
enterprise, and in a short time arrived in the neigh- 
borhood of the Indian encampment. Concealing 



274 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



themselves by the wayside, they waited patiently for 
the appearance of their intended victim. 

After lying for a few hours, they heard the tramp 
of a horse approaching at full speed from the direc- 
tion of the camp. Soon it came within view, and 
Weitzel and Dickerson saw that its rider was a tall, 
thickset savage. He was covered from head to foot 
with ornaments, and was evidently a warrior of rank. 
Weitzel told his companion that they must not let 
this fellow escape them ; and, waiting until he came 
opposite, Weitzel raised his gun, and yelled to the 
Indian to halt. As " the horse was going at great 
speed, the sound of his voice was drowned, and the 
order was not heard. The Indian passed at a hard 
gallop ; but the men, determined not to be disap- 
pointed, took a quick aim and fired simultaneously. 
To their mortification, the savage did not drop, 
although, from a plunging motion which he made 
in his saddle, he was evidently wounded. He 
spurred his horse and rode on. Weitzel watched him 
until he disappeared in the distance ; and then, tak- 
ing his comrade's arm, beat a hasty retreat, for he 
knew that the camp, on hearing that the warrior had 
been shot at, would be alarmed, and that the Indians 
would take immediate steps to arrest the aggressor. 
The two men made their escape without being seen, 
and soon after arrived home in safety. On being 
asked by their neighbors what success they had had, 
Weitzel replied that fortune had been against them. 
They had seen but one Indian, he said, and he had 
escaped. But, he added, although the fellow had not 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 275 

dropped, he appeared to have been tickled by some- 
thing, for he rode off scratching his back as if he had 
been stung by a yellow-jacket. The truth is, Weitzel 
and Dickerson had not shot so ill as appearances 
indicated, for they soon heard that the savage had 
indeed been hit. The balls both took effect, one 
entering his hip, and the other the small of his back. 
The Indian rode to the fort, and soon after expired 
from the effects of his wound. 

As soon as the news of his death was carried to 
the encamped body of Indians, they were thrown 
into the most intense excitement. Thronging to the 
fort in great numbers, they with one voice accused 
Lewis Weitzel of the murder ; and, furiously threat- 
ening vengeance, they demanded Harmar to at once 
arrest and execute the criminal. They declared that, 
unless some decisive step was taken by way of pun- 
ishment, they would instantly break off all friendly 
relations, and take the war-path. 

When the general heard of the outrage, he fell into 
a most violent passion. But when he was told that 
the offender was Lewis Weitzel, his rage knew no 
bounds. He might, he declared, have been induced 
to look with lenity on the crime, had it been perpe- 
trated by one of his own followers ; for men who 
profess the calling of arms are constantly having 
their little disagreements and brawls. But it was 
quite another matter, he said, when a rude, beastly, 
semi-barbarous back-woodsman presumed to delib- 
erately set his authority at defiance, and take the 
chastisement of the Indians into his own hands ; and 



276 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



he swore that, if Weitzel was ever caught, he should 
pay for his act with his life. 

Determined to make every effort to bring the 
criminal to justice, General Harmar sent a company 
of men, commanded by a captain Kingsbury, to 
Mingo Bottom, with orders to take Lewis Weitzel, 
dead or alive. The captain, thinking that nothing 
could be easier than to perform a mission of this 
character, made the journey in a boat; and, arriv- 
ing at the settlement, landed, and sent a messen- 
ger to Major McMahan, demanding the person of 
Weitzel. 

It happened that on this day there was a shooting- 
match among the settlers. Weitzel, as usual, had 
borne off the palm, and, as he had given some very 
remarkable proofs of his skill with the rifle, his friends 
were never in a worse mood to part with him. On 
the arrival of the boat containing Captain Kingsbury's 
party, the object of their mission was at once guessed, 
and the news was spread that the officers had come 
to apprehend the bold hunter. A company of angry 
men at once gathered, and, going to the place where 
Weitzel stood conversing with a few friends, the in- 
telligence was communicated to him. On receiving 
the information, Weitzel gave a fierce look, and 
seized his gun, savagely swearing vengeance. His 
anger was roused to such a pitch that he ordered 
his companions to form and follow him to the river 
bank, as he intended to give the presumptuous offi- 
cers a lesson that they would not be likely soon to 
forget. The men surrounded him with a cheer, and 



ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



277 



the party proceeded to execute the plan, when they 
were met by Major McMahan, who, representing the 
matter in a different light, prevailed upon them to 
wait until the officers should make an aggressive 
movement before resenting. He then went to Cap- 
tain Kingsbury and told him of the temper of the 
settlers, advising him to be off at once if he did not 
wish to have every man in the country upon him. 
Kingsbury, seeing the determined attitude taken by 
the settlers on the shore, at once gave the word to 
pull off, and the boat was started on its return. As 
it rowed up the stream, Weitzel gazed after it with 
a fierce look, and several times felt impelled to follow 
it and lay an ambush. He checked himself, however, 
and quietly returned to his cabin, regarding the affair 
as settled. 

About a month after the attempt of Captain Kings- 
bury, Weitzel, thinking that every thing had been 
forgotten, and that he was as free to go and come 
at pleasure as any man in the country, got into a 
canoe, with the intention of proceeding down the 
Ohio for a hunt in the wilds of Kentucky. On ar- 
riving in the neighborhood of Fort Harmar, he was 
seen and recognized by a soldier, who immediately 
carried word to his commander. As it was near 
dark, Weitzel concluded to go no further that day, 
and accordingly landed on an island opposite the 
fort, designing to pass the night with a friend named 
Hamilton Carr. He was cordially received and given 
shelter. About midnight a company of soldiers 
rowed over from the fort, and, while some surrounded 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



Mr. Carr's house, others entered, and, overpowering 
Weitzel as he lay asleep, bound him hand and foot, 
carried him to a boat, and took him to General Har- 
mar, who ordered him to be chained and placed in the 
guard-room. 

For two days Weitzel remained handcuffed and 
hobbled in close confinement, scarcely able to pace 
from one side of his narrow chamber to the other. 
The ignominy of being thus treated as a criminal was, 
to one of his upright character, unendurable, and he 
felt the disgrace keenly. But when he remembered 
the cause of this harsh usage, and reflected that, for 
an act which he regarded as entirely legitimate, and, 
indeed, patriotic, he was now chained like a common 
murderer, and would, in all probability, be hanged 
like one, he grew frantic with indignation. He finally 
determined to remonstrate with General Harmar, or, 
at! least, to know that officer's purpose. He accord- 
ingly called the guard and requested him to send 
word to the general that he desired an interview. 

Harmar, in response to Weitzel's message, came to 
see him. The prisoner admitted, without hesitation, 
although without the slightest bravado, that he had 
shot an Indian. In very plain language he told the 
general his motives, and asked him what he intended 
to do. General Harmar replied that the military 
law would have to take its course. The punishment 
for so grave an offense, he said, was summary, and 
execution would probably be the result. 

At this information, Weitzel told his visitor that he 
had often braved death in a thousand terrible shapes. 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 279 



He said that it had no terrors for him, since he was, 
and had always been, a total stranger to fear. But, 
he asserted, although he knew nothing of fear, and 
would scorn to beg for his life, he still had some- 
thing of pride in his nature. He could not endure 
the thought of dying like a villain on the scaffold, and 
he entreated the general not to spare him from death, 
if it was indeed just that death should be his portion, 
but to grant him the boon of dying like a brave and 
fearless man. He requested him to turn him over to 
the Indians, a large number of whom were encamped 
in the immediate neighborhood, and all of whom 
thirsted for his blood. The whole band, he said, 
might be arranged in a circle, each with his scalping- 
knife and tomahawk drawn. All that he asked was 
to be given a tomahawk and placed in their midst. 
This, he concluded by saying, would be a just pun- 
ishment, and would insure his certain death. He ear- 
nestly entreated General Harmar to permit him to 
die in this manner, saying that he would then die 
content. 

The general, after a pause, told Weitzel that, since 
he was an officer appointed by law, he must enforce the 
law according to the forms prescribed. He had no 
authority to make such a compromise, and he could 
not, therefore, grant his prisoner's request. With 
these words, he took his departure. 

Weitzel now knew that the ignominious death of 
the criminal would soon fall to his lot. Each day he 
regarded the next as the day of his doom. Finally, 
his confinement growing intolerably irksome, he again 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



sent for General Harmar to come and see him. The 
general came. Weitzel told him that he had never 
been imprisoned before, and, saying- that he would 
soon die unless he was allowed to take exercise, re- 
quested the privilege of walking awhile in the open 
air. General Harmar, acceding to Weitzel's request, 
ordered the officer to knock off his iron fetters, but 
to leave on his handcuffs, and then to lead him to 
walk on the point at the mouth of the Muskingum 
River, but not to fail to keep a strict watch upon 
him. With this order, he again left. 

The fetters had no sooner been taken from Weitz- 
el's legs than he gave a loud whoop, and, knocking 
his feet together, jumped two or three times into the 
air, by way of giving expression to his extreme joy 
at again having the free use of his limbs. When he 
was led into the prison-yard, his delight was seem- 
ingly past all bounds, and, telling his guard to stand 
still for a moment, he ran off a few feet, and then, 
after several capers, made a sudden rush, and, at one 
spring, leaped over the astonished keeper's head. 
Striking the ground, he repeated the feat before the 
guard had time to turn, and then, fearing lest he 
should be suspected of a design to escape, and 
again confined, he ran several times around him, cut- 
ting the most extravagant capers as he did so. The 
guard, unable to retain his gravity, burst into a loud 
laugh, and, greatly amused at the prisoner's actions, 
accompanied him out of the inclosure toward the 
point. He had, however, gone only a few steps from 
the fort gate, when he stopped, and, grasping 




WEITZEL ESCAPES FROM THE GUARDS. 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 283 



Weitzel by the collar of his coat, led him back into 
the yard. Calling two of his companions, who sat 
smoking their pipes by the prison-door, he ordered 
them to take their rifles and join him, saying that the 
prisoner was uncommonly frisky, and, if disposed, 
might make trouble. 

Arrived, under the charge of his escort, at the 
point, Weitzel again commenced his wild antics. He 
frisked and capered like a young colt broke loose 
from the stall, and, by his playful leaps and extrav- 
agant actions, soon had the guards in a constant roar 
of laughter. He would start and run a few yards 
with incredible swiftness, as if about to attempt an 
escape, but, just at the moment that the guards pre- 
pared to follow in pursuit, he would suddenly check 
himself, turn a series of somersaults, and rejoin 
them. In this way he distracted their attention for 
some time, and, calculating the distance at each start, 
succeeded in getting farther and farther away. 
Finally, feeling that the critical moment had come, he 
called forth all his power, activity and resolution, 
and, boldly dashing off, he ran with the swiftness of 
the deer for the adjoining wood, The guards looked 
at him for a few seconds in a careless, idle manner, 
thinking that his only object was to show them the 
great physical resources which he possessed. In a 
moment, however, they comprehended his purpose, 
and yelled to him to stop. He did not heed their 
cry, and, realizing that he was indeed bound on 
escape, they fired. All of their balls missed, and, 
astonished and bewildered, they stood for a moment 



284 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

looking after the fugitive. As soon as they recov- 
ered from their surprise, two of them started in pur- 
suit, while the third ran back to raise the alarm. 

In the meantime Weitzel had made such good use 
of his advantage that he had gained the forest. He 
was perfectly familiar with the country, and he at 
once made for a dense thicket at the distance of two 
or three miles. He reached his objective point in 
safety, and, after making a quick examination of the 
position, concealed himself under a tree which had 
fallen across a log, where the brush was so close 
that he could scarcely force his way through, and 
that only the narrowest examination could result in 
discovery. 

Weitzel la$ in his hiding-place for about half an 
hour before he heard any sound to indicate that he 
was pursued. At the end of this time a troop of 
horsemen came crashing through the trees, but they 
passed on without stopping. In the course of another 
half hour he heard loud whoops in every direction, 
and he knew that the Indians had been set on his 
trail. Soon the wood was perfectly alive with his 
enemies, whom he heard passing and repassing every 
few minutes. Nearly all of them, however, were in 
hot pursuit, and passed the thicket without stopping 
to examine its recesses. 

When Weitzel had lain for about two hours, two 
Indians halted under a tree a few yards from his 
hiding-place, and commenced to converse in very 
earnest tones. Weitzel could hear that they were 
disputing about the probable course which he had 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 285 

taken, and his heart sank within him when one of 
them said that he was convinced that the fugitive 
had not run far, and was, in his opinion, hidden some- 
where among the bushes. They then advanced to 
the thicket, and began to beat it carefully. Finally 
they climbed on the log under which he lay, and, 
striking the thick brush, they almost touched his body 
with their clubs. Weitzel's heart beat so violently 
that he feared they would hear its thumping, and, 
drawing himself back, he lay in momentary expecta- 
tion of being jerked from his hiding-place. In a 
short time the Indians passed on, and Weitzel could 
hear them hallooing in every direction as they 
marched ahead continuing their search. 

The day wore on, and one by one the pursuing 
parties returned. Evening succeeded, and Weitzel 
found himself alone in its favoring shades. He had 
made a bold dash for liberty, and escaped from the 
clutches of the guards. Their bullets had passed 
him without doing him injury; and he had, at least 
for the moment, eluded his legion of pursuers. So 
far, all was good ; but what assurance had he for the 
future? In all probability some of his enemies were 
still lurking in the neighborhood. He was hand- 
cuffed, and could not defend himself. He might, in- 
deed, wander through the forest without being dis- 
covered, but how was he to live ? He had no friends 
on the Ohio side of the river, and he could not cross 
by swimming. But, although every thing seemed to 
be against him, he was too brave and hopeful to 
despair, and, leaving his place of concealment, he 



286 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



again pushed boldly forward, determined that, though 
he might not secure success, he would at least strive 
to deserve it. 

Taking a circuitous route, he avoided the immedi- 
ate neighborhood of the fort, and in a few hours 
reached the Ohio River, about four miles below. He 
selected a point which was entirely isolated, for he 
knew that guards would be stationed at every place 
where a canoe was to be had. Following the course 
of the stream, he traveled for a short distance, when 
he saw, by the light of the moon, a man fishing in a 
boat on the opposite side, whom he recognized as an 
acquaintance named Isaac Wiseman. As he was 
not sure whether he was yet out of sight and hear- 
ing of his enemies, he did not dare to call, and there- 
fore resorted to a different expedient. He took a 
stick and commenced to gently plash the water, seek- 
ing to attract his friend's attention. In a few mo- 
ments Mr. Wiseman, hearing the noise, looked round, 
and Weitzel took off his hat and waved it over his 
head. He finally succeeded in catching Wiseman's 
eye, who presently recognized him, and came to his 
assistance. Weitzel was rowed to the Virginia shore; 
a file and hammer soon released him from the hand- 
cuffs, and, after a night's rest, he set out in a canoe 
for Kentucky, with a rifle, ammunition and blanket, 
which had been given him by his friend. 

Not long after his arrival in Kentucky, Weitzel 
learned that General Harmar, far from permitting the 
matter to drop, had proclaimed him throughout the 
country as an outlaw, and set a large price on his 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 287 



head, This officer had recently changed his head- 
quarters to Fort Washington, at Cincinnati, and one 
of his first official acts, on taking command of his 
new post, was to renew his offers of reward for the 
apprehension and delivery of the man whom he still 
insisted on declaring the arch-rogue of the Western 
borders. 

Although Weitzel knew that he carried his life in 
his hands, his bold and fearless spirit scorned to 
adopt even the commonest of precautionary meas- 
ures. He ranged from settlement to settlement with 
the greatest impunity, and took no steps whatever to 
conceal his identity. One day, while hunting near 
the mouth of the Kanawha River, he accidentally 
encountered Captain Kingsbury, the same officer 
who had, on a previous occasion, been sent to take 
him from Mingo Bottom. Weitzel saw Kingsbury 
first, and halted instantly in the path, placing himself 
in readiness for any emergency. Captain Kingsbury, 
who was a brave and generous man, and who, 
although he held Weitzel's occupation in the great- 
est detestation, had a true respect and admiration 
for the man, faced the hunter with a firm and fearless 
gaze, but made no movement by way of offense. 
Weitzel knew and honored the officer as a man of 
the most irreproachable character and undoubted 
bravery, and he, also, forbore to make an attack. 
After gazing for awhile at each other, the two men 
both slowly and guardedly retired without coming to 
blows, and almost without speaking a word. 

Soon after his meeting with Captain Kingsbury, 



288 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



Weitzel, while sitting one day in a tavern in Mays- 
ville, Kentucky, was seen by Lieutenant Lawler, of 
the regular army, who had stopped at that place 
while on his way to Fort Washington with a body 
of troops. The lieutenant, on recognizing the stal- 
wart hunter, quickly ordered out a file of soldiers ; 
and Weitzel, although he made a stout resistance, 
was seized and dragged to a boat, which was im- 
mediately pushed off. On that evening the fort 
was reached, and the prisoner was delivered up to 
General Harmar. He was immediately loaded with 
heavy chains and thrown into a strong room, while 
the general, determined that he should not again 
escape justice, prepared to hold his trial and obtain 
his condemnation forthwith. 

Every ray of hope was now, to all appearance, ex- 
tinguished. General Harmar, deaf to all appeals in 
behalf of the unfortunate man, and unmindful of the 
strong arguments advanced in extenuation of his 
offense, was sternly unrelenting. Several of his offi- 
cers, whose admiration of the courageous character 
of the adventurous frontiersman knew no bounds, 
earnestly interceded for him, but the resolution of 
the general would not be shaken. The rank and 
file of the soldiery were thoroughly in sympathy 
with Weitzel ; and their murmurs were loud and 
ominous when it was reported that he was to be 
hanged simply because he had offended by killing 
an Indian. Finally, the whole country was aroused, 
and petitions were sent in for the prisoner's release 
from all quarters and by all classes. The settlers 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 289 



were furious and indignant ; they armed and pro- 
posed to effect Weitzel's liberation by force, and 
General Harmar soon saw that the flame of revolt 
was kindling, and that, unless he made a conces- 
sion, his authority would speedily be set at naught. 
Under these circumstances, representations were 
made which warranted Judge Symmes in issuing a 
writ of habeas corpus; Weitzel was set at liberty, 
and quiet was restored. He was escorted by the 
settlers to Columbia, a town in the vicinity of Fort 
Washington, in triumph. A supper was given in 
his honor ; and, when he was ready to set out on 
his return to Virginia, he was presented by his ad- 
mirers with a fine rifle, a handsome shot-pouch belt, 
and a sum of money, and accompanied a portion of 
the distance by an enthusiastic party of friends. 

Thus ended this memorable affair. W eitzel was 
not again molested, although General Harmar still 
believed him to richly merit the punishment of 
death ; and he could never afterward be persuaded 
that he had not done a very unwarrantable act in 
allowing what he regarded to be a most heinous 
crime to pass in review without the application of 
the strictest measures of the military law. In con- 
sidering the case at this length of time, we can not 
but conclude that the part borne in it by General 
Harmar was most unenviable. Viewed according to 
the principles of abstract justice, Weitzel's offense 
certainly merited the death sentence. But when it 
is remembered that the offender, far from being 
actuated by criminal motives, had the most patriotic 



29O THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

object in view; and that, although he was not jus- 
tified in his course by men of cool judgment, his 
case was pleaded and clemency was solicited by 
every person in the Western settlements, it is hard 
to believe that the enforcement of strict measures 
against him would have been in the interest of the 
general welfare. 

Soon after Weitzel's release from imprisonment 
an incident occurred which forcibly illustrates the 
truth of this observation. A week or two subse- 
quent to his arrival in Virginia he received a visit 
from a relative who lived at a settlement called 
Dunkard Creek. Preparing to return, he invited 
Weitzel to accompany him. The invitation was ac- 
cepted, and the two went on their way, hunting and 
sporting as they journeyed along. 

In a few days the home of the young man was 
reached ; but to his dismay and grief he found, in- 
stead of the hospitable roof, a pile of smoking 
ruins. The cabin had evidently been attacked and 
burned, and its inmates either killed or carried 
off by Indians. Overcome with sorrow, the young 
man threw himself on the ground and wept bit- 
terly. Weitzel, in the meantime, quickly examined 
the ground, and, discovering the trail, found that 
the attacking party consisted of three Indians, and 
that they had taken away one captive. The print 
of a small shoe in the damp earth revealed the fact 
that the prisoner was a young woman; and Weitzel, 
communicating this to his companion, was told by 
the unfortunate youth that she was his sweetheart, 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 29 1 

who had recently come to live with his parents. The 
two hunters determined to start in instant pursuit. 
Weitzel took the lead, and, although the Indians 
had carefully covered their tracks, his sagacity and 
quickness of perception enabled him to follow the 
trail rapidly and without the least deviation. 

The pursuers traveled for a day and a half over 
hills and through dense forests. A number of 
streams obstructed their march, and they were 
obliged to stop several times to hunt the trail, 
which the cautious savages had sought to conceal 
by walking in the water. Toward evening of the 
second day the Ohio was reached, and Weitzel dis- 
covered a smoke rising through the trees on the 
opposite side, which he immediately conjectured 
came from the camp-fire of the Indians. After 
dark they swam across and reconnoitered the posi- 
tion of the enemy. The party was more numerous 
than Weitzel had supposed, consisting of one white 
renegade, three savages, and the young girl. 

On seeing his betrothed the young man grew 
very impatient, and begged Weitzel to make the 
attack at once. The wary hunter, however, ordered 
him to remain quiet, and said that under no condi- 
tion was the assault to be made before daybreak. 
He told his companion to lie down and sleep while 
he mounted guard. The frantic lover reluctantly 
complied, and Weitzel patiently awaited the appear- 
ance of day. 

Early in the morning the savages rose from their 
sleep and prepared to continue the journey. Weit- 



292 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



zel ordered his companion, who did not need to be 
awakened, to take good aim at the white renegade, 
while he would undertake to dispatch one of the 
Indians. 

When every thing was ready, Weitzel gave the 
word, the guns were discharged simultaneously, 
and two of the enemy dropped lifeless. While his 
companion rushed forward to free the captive, 
Weitzel reloaded his piece, and then started in pur- 
suit of the other two Indians, who had bounded off 
on hearing the report of the rifles, and who, he con- 
jectured, had concealed themselves somewhere in the 
neighborhood, waiting to ascertain the strength of 
the attacking party. After running a few yards, Weit- 
zel discharged his gun at random, in order to draw 
them from their retreat. He succeeded ; the two sav- 
ages instantly emerged from the bushes and rushed 
toward him with their tomahawks raised, yelling at 
the top of their voices. Weitzel flew, reloading his 
rifle as he did so. Soon prepared, he suddenly turned 
and shot the first of his pursuers dead. Discovering 
the trick of the white man, the other Indian bounded 
forward with the utmost impetuosity, hoping to dis- 
patch him before he could again load; but Weitzel 
eluded him, and kept ahead until he had charged his 
piece, when he wheeled, and, firing on the moment, 
laid the last of the party bleeding on the ground. 
He scalped the Indians, and rejoined his friend. The 
return journey was made without delay. It is need- 
less to add that the young man and his affianced bride 
were but ill-disposed to reproach General Harmar for 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL 



293 



his violation of the principles of military justice in 
setting Lewis Weitzel at liberty. 

About the year 1793, Weitzel left Virginia and 
paid a visit to the extreme South. Soon after his 
arrival in New Orleans he was seized by the author- 
ities on some charge (the nature of which is now 
unknown) made against him by a Spaniard, and 
thrown into prison. He remained in confinement for 
many months. He was finally released by the inter- 
vention of the United States government. 

During the rest of his career, Weitzel followed a 
restless and wandering life. He was engaged at 
different times in scouting and hunting, and locating 
lands. In the pursuit of this last occupation he was 
on one occasion employed by John Madison, a brother 
of the celebrated James Madison, afterward Presi- 
dent of the United States, to accompany him through 
the Kanawha region and assist him in finding and 
locating some land which he had purchased. While 
on this expedition they came to a hunter's camp 
which had, to all appearance, been deserted, and, 
finding some goods, each helped himself to a blanket. 
The next day they were fired upon by a party of 
Indians. Madison was killed instantly, but Weitzel 
was fortunate enough to be spared, and, although he 
was pursued, he escaped without being harmed. 

In 1803 the celebrated General Clarke, the asso- 
ciate of Mr. Lewis in the Lewis and Clarke expedi- 
tion across the Rocky Mountains, sent a messenger 
to Lewis W eitzel requesting him to take a part in 
the enterprise. Weitzel consented, after a great deal 



294 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



of hesitation, and accompanied the party during the 
first three months of the tour ; but at the end of that 
time he grew tired and dissatisfied, severed his con- 
nection with the expedition, and returned. For the 
next four or five, years he wandered from point to 
point, and finally settled in Natchez. At this place 
he fell sick, lingered for several months, and, in the 
summer of 1818, died. 

In person Lewis Weitzel was a man of striking ap- 
pearance and extraordinary activity and power. He 
is thus described by one of his acquaintances, who has 
left us a very interesting account of his adventures : 

" Lewis Weitzel was about five feet nine inches 
high. He had a full breast, was very broad across 
the shoulders ; his arms were large — his limbs were 
not heavy — -his skin was darker than his brothers' — 
his face was considerably pitted by the small-pox — 
his hair, of which he was very careful, reached, when 
combed out, to the calves of his legs — his eyes were 
remarkably black, and when excited (which was 
easily done), they would sparkle with such a vindictive 
glance as almost to curdle the blood to look at him. 
In his appearance and gait there was something dif- 
ferent from other men." .... 

His character is thus briefly described by the same 
writer : 

" Where he professed friendship, he was as true as 
the needle to the pole ; his enmity was always dan- 
gerous. In mixed company he was a man of few 
words ; but, with his particular companions, he was 
a social, and even a cheerful companion." 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



295 



The following extract from an author, from whom 
we have drawn largely in the present account of 
WeitzePs adventures, will illustrate other traits in 
his character: 

"He threw into the common treasury a soul as 
heroic, as adventurous, as full of energy and ex- 
haustless of resources as ever animated the human 
breast. Bold, wary, and active, he stood without an 
equal in the pursuit to which he had committed him- 
self, mind and body. No man on the western frontier 
was more dreaded by the enemy, and none did more 
to beat him back into the heart of the forest, and 
reclaim the expanseless domain which we now enjoy. 
He was never known to inflict unwonted cruelty upon 
women and children, as has been charged upon him ; 
and he never was found to torture and mutilate his 
victim, as many of the traditions would indicate. He 
was revengeful, because he had suffered deep injury 
at the hands of that race, and woe to the Indian war- 
rior who crossed his path. He was literally a man 
without fear. He was brave as a lion, cunning as a 
fox; 'daring where daring was the wiser part; pru- 
dent where discretion was valor's better self.' He 
seemed to possess in a remarkable degree that intu- 
itive knowledge which can alone constitute a good 
hunter, added to which he was sagacious, prompt 
to act, and alwavs aiming to render his actions 
efficient." 

In conclusion, we can do no better than introduce 
the following agreeable and striking poem. It will 
be read with interest by all who wish to view the 



296 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



character of this bold, successful and famous hunter 
at its best : * 

LEWIS WEITZEL. 

Stout-hearted Lewis Weitzel 

Rides down the river shore, 
The wilderness behind him, 

The wilderness before. 

He rides in the cool of morning, 

Humming a dear old tune, 
Into the heart of the greenwood, 

Into the heart of June. 

He needs no guide in the forest 

More than the hunter bees; 
His guides are the cool green mosses 

To the northward of the trees. 

Nor fears he the foe whose footstep 

Is light as the summer air — 
The tomahawk hangs in his shirt-belt, 

The scalp-knife glitters there! 

The stealthy Wyandots tremble, 

And speak his name with fear, 
For his aim is sharp and deadly, 

And his rifle's ring is clear. 

So, pleasantly rides he onward, 

Pausing to hear the stroke 
Of the settler's ax in the forest, 

Or the crash of a falling oak. 

Pausing at times to gather 

The wild fruit overhead 
(For in this rarest of June days 

The service-berries are red) ; 



*Wmten by Florus B. Plimpton. (See p. 334 of "The Union of American Poetry and 
Art." Edited by John James Piatt. Cincinnati: W. E. Dibble & Co.) 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 



And as he grasps the full boughs 
To bend them down amain, 

The dew and the blushing berries 
Fall like an April rain. 

The partridge drums on the dry oak, 

The croaking corby caws, 
The blackbird sings in the spice-bush, 

The robin in the haws; 

And, as they chatter and twitter, 
The wild birds seem to say, 

"Do not harm us, good Lewis, 
And you shall have luck to-day." 

So, pleasantly rides he onward, 
'Till the shadows mark the noon, 

Into the leafy greenwood, 
Into the heart of June. 

Now speed thee on, good Lewis, 
For the sultry sun goes down, 

The hill-side shadows lengthen, 
And the eastern sky is brown. 

Now speed thee where the river 
Creeps slow in the coverts cool, 

And the lilies nod their white bells 
By the margin of the pool. 

He crosses the silver Kaska 
With its chestnut-covered hills, 

And the fetlocks of his roan steed 
Are wet in a hundred rills. 

"And there," he cries in transport, 
' ' The alders greenest grow, 

Where the wild stag comes for water, 
And her young fawn leads the doe." 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Grasping his trusty rifle, 

He whistles his dog behind, 
Then stretches his finger upward 

To know how sets the wind. 

Oh ! steady grows the strong arm, 
And the hunter's dark eye keen, 

As he sees the branching antlers 
Through alder thickets green. 

A sharp, clear ring through the greenwood, 
And with mighty leap and bound, 

The pride of the western forest 
Lies bleeding on the ground. 

Then out from the leafy shadow 

A stalwart hunter springs, 
And his unsheathed scalp-knife glittering 

Against his rifle rings. 

"And who art thou," quoth Lewis, 
"That com'st 'twixt me and mine?" 

And his cheek is flushed with anger, 
As a Bacchant's flushed with wine. 

"What boots that to thy purpose?" 

The stranger hot replies ; 
"My rifle marked it living, 

And mine, when dead, the prize." 

Then with sinewy arms they grapple, 

Like giants fierce in brawls, 
Till stretched along the greensward 

The humbled hunter falls. 

Upspringing like a panther, 

He cries, in wrath and pride, 
' 1 Though your arms may be the stronger, 

Our rifles shall decide." 



THE ADVENTURES OF LEWIS WEITZEL. 299 

"Stay, stranger," quoth good Lewis. 

"The chances are not even; 
Who challenges my rifle 

Should be at peace with heaven. 

" Now take this rod of alder, 

Set it by yonder tree 
A hundred yards beyond me, 

And wait you there and see; 

" For he who dares such peril 

But lightly holds his breath — 
May his unshrived soul be ready 

To welcome sudden death." 

So the stranger takes the alder, 

And wondering stands to view, 
While Weitzel's aim grows steady, 

And he cuts the rod in two. 

" By heaven ! " exclaims the stranger, 

" One only, far or nigh, 
Hath arms like the lithe young ash-tree, 

Or half so keen an eye ; 

"And that is Lewis Weitzel." 

Quoth Lewis, " Here he stands; " 
So they speak in gentler manner, 

And clasp their friendly hands. 

Then talk the mighty hunters 

Till the summer dew descends, 
And they who met as foemen 

Ride out of the greenwood friends ; — 

Ride out of the leafy greenwood 

As rises the yellow moon, 

And the purple hills lie pleasantly 

In the softened air of Tune. 
18 



ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 



TOWARD the close of the Revolution the Indian 
allies of the British in the West became very 
aggressive and troublesome, making frequent attacks 
on the frontier settlements and destroying much val- 
uable property, besides killing and taking into captiv- 
ity a great many of the unfortunate whites. These 
depredations were continued until the end of the war, 
and for ten or twelve years afterward, to the no small 
annoyance and terror of the settlers, whose strength 
was too feeble to enable them to resist successfully. 

To retaliate on the Indians, and compel them to 
give over their hostile designs, the government sent 
a number of formidable expeditions against them, 
which, however, though under the command of brave 
and experienced generals, nearly all had a most disas- 
trous issue. The tribes of the Ohio Valley were unex- 
celled for audacity, courage and sagaciousness among 
the American Indians; and the successful war which 
they waged for many years with the armies of the 
civilized and courageous whites, who, by a trying ex- 
perience, had gained a thorough knowledge of sav- 
age warfare, and were therefore able to meet them 
on their own ground, is sufficient proof that they were 
fully entitled to the advantage which they so long 
maintained. 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 



30I 



One of the most memorable of the earlier expedi- 
tions against the Indians was that undertaken by 
George Rogers Clarke, in the year 1781. General 
C'arke, at the time of which we speak, resided at 
the Falls of the Ohio, where he was in command of 
Fort Nelson, the head-quarters of the military depart- 
ment of the West, of which he was the head. The 
immediate object of his expedition was to counteract 
the effect produced by the crushing defeat of the 
whites, at the battle of Blue Licks, a short time pre- 
vious. He proposed that a force of about one thou- 
sand men should be raised from among the settlers 
in Ohio and Kentucky, and rendezvous at Cincinnati, 
where he promised to join it with a part of an Illi- 
nois regiment together with such other troops as he 
might be able to muster. This proposition was 
agreed to, and General Clarke proceeded to perfect 
his plans for the campaign. 

Indefatigable in his efforts, he determined to spare 
no means for gaining a complete victory and reducing 
the Indians at once to subjection. Among other 
parts of the country laid under contribution was 
Western Pennsylvania, which he visited in the sum- 
mer of 1 78 1. Here he soon raised a body of men, 
whom he proposed to lead to the rendezvous at 
Cincinnati. 

Among those who were particularly active in ren- 
dering him the aid which he solicited was Colonel 
Archibald Laughery, the county lieutenant of West- 
moreland County, Pennsylvania. In a short time, 
chiefly at his own expense, this intrepid officer 



302 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



succeeded in mustering about one hundred volun- 
teers, and, after rendezvousing at Carnahan's block- 
house, about six days' march from Wheeling, he set 
out with his men to join General Clarke, who, with 
the main force, had agreed to wait at the last-named 
place. 

Next in command to Colonel Laughery was Captain 
Robert Orr, an Irishman by birth, who, with his supe- 
rior officer, had provided the means necessary for the 
expedition. Among the other officers was the brave 
Captain Shannon, a man who stood high in the 
esteem of Colonel Laughery, being intrusted by him 
with many of the more important concerns of the 
expedition. 

Jn the company of Captain Shannon was a young 
officer, Isaac Anderson by name, who, having fin- 
ished an active and creditable service in the Conti- 
nental army, had come to Pennsylvania in search of 
new fields of military enterprise. As it is our inten- 
tion to relate for the edification of our readers a part 
of the subsequent career of this young man, it will 
not be out of place to give a brief account of his 
previous history. 

Isaac Anderson came to America in the year 1774* 
at the age of sixteen. He was born of respectable 
Irish parents, but, as both his father and mother died 
while he was quite young, he grew up without any one 
to provide for his education or direct him in his future 
course. He possessed, however, even at this youth- 
ful age, very marked individuality and self-reliance, 
and, taking to studying, acquired considerable pro- 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 303 



ficiency in mathematics, and a mastery of the art of 
surveying. 

Arriving in America, he, choosing to rely on his 
own exertions, declined an invitation extended him 
by some of his relatives in Virginia to join them. He 
went to Pennsylvania, where he remained until the 
outbreak of the war, when, at the age of eighteen, 
he shouldered his gun, joined a volunteer rifle regi- 
ment, and commenced active service in behalf of the 
country of his adoption. 

Young Anderson soon found ample opportunity of 
exercising his adventurous spirit. He participated 
in some of the most sanguine and momentous con- 
flicts of the war. He was present at both of the 
bloody battles near Saratoga, and was one of the 
proud and fortunate spectators of the surrender of 
Burgoyne to the American general, Gates ; and 
throughout the war the regiment to which he be- 
longed was kept constantly in active service, bearing 
itself with high honor in numerous general engage- 
ments, and being frequently dispatched to perform 
important duties of a special character. 

On one occasion, when out on a scouting expedition, 
the regiment was attacked by a British force very 
much superior in numbers and equipment. A stout 
resistance was made, and the skirmish which followed 
was sharp and very severe ; but the Americans were 
badly beaten and retreated precipitously, leaving their 
dead and wounded on the field. Anderson had 
fought with great courage, exposing himself fre- 
quently to the fire of the enemy. The result of his 



3O4 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

daring was, that he received a most dangerous 
wound from a musket-ball, which passed in at one 
cheek and out at the other, crushing a number of his 
teeth; and so severe were its effects that he fell to 
the ground, bleeding, unconscious, and apparently 
dead. 

It was the middle of winter. The weather was 
deathly cold, and the snow lay on the frozen ground 
in great drifts. Night was approaching, and a party 
of men was sent out by the British officer to take 
the wounded from the field, — the removal of the 
dead being left until the next morning. Anderson 
still lay in a state of unconsciousness, and, as he 
gave no sign of life, was left on the ground as dead. 
Presently the night came on, and with it the British 
soldiers left their camp to visit the battle-field and 
secure the spoils of victory. 

Some of the plunderers, examining the body of 
Anderson, found his clothing to be thick and in good 
condition, and accordingly stripped it off, leaving 
him in the bitter night with scarcely a garment to 
cover him. Reviving after awhile, he shouted for 
assistance as loud as his enfeebled condition would 
permit him ; but his cries were not heard, and, faint 
from the loss of blood, chilled and numb in every 
limb, and almost perishing from the torments which 
he suffered on account of his wound, he lay on the 
earth until morning, when the British soldiers came 
to remove and bury the dead. 

Anderson was now taken into camp, carried to 
Philadelphia, and placed under the care of a very 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 305 

skillful surgeon, whom he found to be an Irishman 
who had come from his own county. With this man 
Anderson contracted a very intimate friendship, and 
from him he received the most particular and con- 
siderate attention, soon being restored to almost per- 
fect health. The surgeon proved himself to be in- 
deed a true friend ; for, when the British evacuated 
Philadelphia, at three o'clock on the morning of the 
1 8th of June, 1778, he reported Anderson to the 
superintending surgeon as severely ill ; and the youth 
was thus permitted to remain in his berth in the hos- 
pital. After the British had left, Anderson sprang 
from his bed, drew on his clothes, and started on a 
run for the American camp, happy in the thought 
that he was again free and ready for new adventures. 

During the principal part of the three following 
years Isaac Anderson was with his regiment in vari- 
ous campaigns. In that of New Jersey in particular 
he bore a most active part, fighting in a great many 
pitched battles. He grew to be a very expert marks- 
man; and, as he afterward frequently stated, at the 
famous battle of Monmouth Court House he dis- 
charged his rifle with aim thirty-two times. 

On hearing, shortly after his arrival in Western 
Pennsylvania, of the proposed expedition to join 
General Clarke in his campaign against the Indians, 
Anderson immediately, and with great alacrity, sig- 
nified his willingness to become one of the number. 
He was also influential in persuading others to en- 
list; and, partly in recognition of his Revolutionary 
services, and partly in reward of the material aid 



306 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



which he had rendered in obtaining volunteers, he 
was raised from the ranks and given the first-lieu- 
tenancy in the company of Captain Shannon. 

Colonel Laughery, with the force under his com- 
mand, started, on the second day of August, 1 78 1 , 
from Carnahan's block-house and pushed forward in 
the direction of Wheeling, hoping to arrive in time 
to proceed with General Clarke and the army. Their 
march lay through a wild region, which was crossed 
by numerous streams, and their progress was natu- 
rally slow. Wheeling was reached on the 8th of 
August, but the adventurers found that they were 
too late, since General Clarke, tired of waiting, had 
gone ahead, leaving behind one of his officers with 
a few men and a boat for transporting the horses of 
Laughery's detachment, but without ammunition or 
provisions. Instructions were given for Laughery 
and his men to proceed immediately and join the 
main division at the mouth of the Kanawha River. 
The soldiers accordingly embarked on their boats 
and the journey was resumed. On their arrival at 
the appointed place they found that General Clarke 
had once more been forced to proceed alone. He 
had, however, left a letter attached to a pole, and in 
this he stated that he could not afford to wait, for fear 
of desertion among his men, and directed Laughery 
to follow him to the Falls of the Ohio. 

Again the venturous band continued on their way. 
The river was very low ; the voyagers knew nothing 
of its channel, and the boats were rude and unwieldy, 
having been made for temporary use merely. Prog- 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 307 



ress was therefore very tedious, and the most that 
could be hoped was that, after a slow passage, ren- 
dered still slower by unavoidable delays, the Falls 
of the Ohio might be safely reached. 

The prospect of consuming many days of valuable 
time in a journey which they had hoped to make ex- 
peditiously was discouraging enough, even if for no 
other reason than that it was highly important to 
the success of the undertaking that General Clarke 
should be joined without delay. But when they re- 
membered that the country through which they had 
to pass was infested by hostile tribes, who could 
scarcely fail to receive information of the separation 
of the detachment from the main body, and of its com- 
parative weakness, and who therefore would watch 
their opportunities of attack, the voyagers naturally 
felt very serious apprehensions concerning their safety. 

To add to the doubts which they now began to 
entertain, and increase their concern to alarm and 
terror, their store of provisions and forage ran short 
and their ammunition became nearly exhausted. The 
only means of obtaining fresh supplies was by draw- 
ing on the stores carried by General Clarke. Colonel 
Laughery accordingly dispatched Captain Shannon 
and seven men in a small boat, with instructions to 
travel without intermission night and day, overtake 
the general, secure from him the quantities neces- 
sary, and return with all speed. 

Captain Shannon departed on his mission and the 
rest of the men continued on their way. The trials 
of the adventurers now began in earnest. Each 



3 o8 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



soldier was placed on short allowance; and, close 
calculations being made, it was found that the party 
could barely subsist on the provisions in store until 
Shannon's return, which was expected to be in the 
course of a few days. Should he fail to appear at 
the end of that time the only recourse was to pro- 
ceed day and night until General Clarke should be 
overtaken, or else to depend for support upon the 
product of the forest. 

The day after Captain Shannon's departure an in- 
cident occurred which greatly depressed the spirits 
of the soldiers, raised for a time by hopeful antici- 
pation. Two men were sent out to hunt, with the 
understanding that they were to rejoin their com- 
panions at an appointed place about dusk. A short 
time after they had left their rifles were heard at a 
distance, and during the afternoon the reports con- 
tinued, each time in the immediate neighborhood. 
The hour for return arrived, but the men failed to 
appear. Guns were discharged in order to direct 
them in their course if they had wandered astray, 
and diligent search was made in various directions, 
but all without result, and the party at length went 
on their way, concluding that their companions had 
been killed or taken prisoners by the Indians. This 
incident had a most disheartening effect on the weary 
and discouraged voyagers, who now began to real- 
ize the perils of their undertaking, and, as they pro- 
ceeded down the river, grew every moment more 
fearful that they were being drawn closer and closer 
into the dreaded Indian ambush. 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDFRSON. 



309 



The second and third days since the departure of 
Captain Shannon and his men passed, and still the 
anxious voyagers looked in vain for the returning 
canoe. The fourth day dawned, and with it hope 
well-nigh gave way to despair. It w r as now de- 
termined to travel as rapidly as possible, wathout 
stopping even for rest, and the canoes pushed for- 
ward bravely. 

Toward the middle of this day they were hailed 
by two men on shore, who, to their amazement, 
proved to belong to the party of Captain Shannon. 
They were very ragged and presented a most pitia- 
ble appearance ; and the story which they told was 
in no way calculated to allay the fears of their now 
thoroughly alarmed friends. 

It appears that, on the first or second day after 
they had left their companions, Captain Shannon 
and his men put ashore on a low, sandy beach, a 
short distance below the mouth of the Scioto. Here 
they built a fire; and, while the captain and four 
men remained to cook their dinner and guard the 
boats, the other three took their rifles and went out 
in the woods to hunt. They had gone a distance 
of about half a mile when suddenly to their great 
alarm they heard a volley of musket shots fired in 
quick succession, — the noise coming from the direc- 
tion of the camp. They stopped short, listening in 
breathless suspense. Instantly the firing w<as re- 
peated, followed by a shrill wmoop, the unmistakable 
indication of an Indian attack. Knowing that any 
attempt to rescue their companions would be fruit- 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



less, since the Indians evidently were much superior 
to them in numbers, the three men, giving up their 
pursuit of game, started on a hard run up the river, 
seeking to escape and rejoin Colonel Laughery. 

The leader of the fugitives was a young sergeant, 
a very gallant, handsome, and athletic fellow, who 
had borne himself with great credit under many 
trying circumstances. This man, on hearing the re- 
port of the rifles, had instinctively drawn his knife, 
as if to defend himself, and, starting to run, had 
again thrust it in his belt, but so carelessly that it 
hung loosely, and, slipping out, fell to the ground. 
Just at that moment, rushing impetuously forward, 
he stepped on the keen edge, and the knife ran 
directly through his foot, almost dividing it in two. 
He instantly dropped senseless, and a few moments 
after expired from excessive loss of blood. 

His two companions stopped only long enough 
to close his eyes, not daring to remain to bury the 
corpse, fearing that, if they did so, their enemies 
would be upon them. That night they slept and 
watched by turns, and the next morning resumed 
their flight. Although nearly famished they scarcely 
dared to discharge their rifles at game, being con- 
vinced, from the numbers of the Indians who had 
assailed their companions, as well as from other 
reasons, that they were in constant danger of attack 
by lurking savages. Making the best of their way 
through the forest they at length met, as already 
stated, the friends from whom they had parted four 
days previous. 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 3 I I 



From the alarming reports given by the fugitives, 
the voyagers now became fully persuaded that the 
woods swarmed with Indians thirsting for their blood. 
To return was, however, out of the question, and 
they proceeded with as great rapidity as their 
wretched crafts would permit, exercising every vig- 
ilance, and determining, like brave men, if attacked, 
to maintain a courageous stand and sell their lives as 
dearly as possible. 

A short time after taking up the two men of Shan- 
non's party, their attention was attracted by the 
crackling of bushes at some distance, and the sound 
of voices. A halt was promptly called, and the 
boats were rowed to the shore. The men disem- 
barked and concealed themselves behind the trees, 
waiting for their enemies. Presently a party of men 
appeared, but, greatly to the surprise of the expect- 
ant soldiers, these, instead of being Indians, proved 
to be whites. Colonel Laughery instantly ordered 
his band to take the offensive, and challenging the 
deserters — for such he rightly judged them to be — 
ordered them to surrender. The order was obeyed, 
and the men, nineteen in number, confessed that they 
had made their escape from General Clarke, and 
were on their way home. Not caring to encumber 
himself with these cowardly fellows, and being too 
merciful to enforce strict military discipline under 
the circumstances, Laughery permitted them to con- 
tinue unmolested. 

Resuming their voyage down the river, the men 
strained every effort to push the boats forward rap- 



312 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



idly, and, while some plied the oars, the others kept 
their rifles in their hands, ready to resist any assault. 
They traveled for forty-eight hours almost without 
stoppage, but, at length, seeing no Indians, and giv- 
ing up for awhile their fears, they determined to land, 
prepare a hearty meal, and secure sufficient game to 
furnish provisions for the remainder of the journey. 

About ten o'clock, on the morning of the 24th of 
August, they put to shore at a very beautiful spot 
near the mouth of a small creek (now called Laugh- 
ery's Creek), in the south-eastern part of Indiana. 
Congratulating themselves on their fancied success in 
eluding the Indians, they felt comparatively secure, 
and accordingly went to work to accomplish the de- 
sign on which they were bent, thinking of very little 
else. While some built fires to cook the provisions 
that might be obtained, others dispersed in search of 
game. The diligence of the hunters was soon amply 
rewarded. An immense buffalo was killed by one of 
the party, and carried into the camp, where it was 
skinned and prepared for roasting, while the men 
busied themselves in gathering wood and feeding the 
flames which were to cook them the bountiful meal 
for which they all longed so eagerly. 

While thus occupied, insensible of danger, and 
wholly unprepared for resisting an attack, the loud 
report of a hundred rifles was suddenly heard, and at 
the same instant a murderous volley of bullets fell in 
their midst. Before they had time to recover from 
their surprise and assume the defensive, the Indians, 
to the number of four or five score, rushed from the 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 3 1 3 

adjoining woods, and, brandishing their tomahawks, 
advanced with unearthly yells to dispatch those who 
had survived the fire. The whites defended them- 
selves as lone as their ammunition lasted, and then 
fled precipitately to their boats and plied their oars 
vigorously, striving to gain the Kentucky shore. But 
before they had fairly launched, they saw, to their 
dismay, a number of canoes, filled with Indian war- 
riors, put out from the opposite bank. They now 
found that while endeavoring to escape danger in 
the rear, thev were inviting a worse danger ahead ; for 
the Indians on the river opened a merciless fire, and, 
powerless to longer defend themselves, the whites 
threw down their arms and begged for quarter. 

Surrender now followed, and the Indians bound 
their prisoners (sixty in number), and marched them 
about eight miles up the river, where they encamped 
with them through the night. 

The results of the battle, — if, indeed, it can be 
given this name. — were most disastrous. The attack 
was completely successful, and not one man escaped 
to join General Clarke or return home. A number 
were wantonly killed after being taken prisoners, and 
among these was the heroic leader of the expedi- 
tion, Colonel Laughery. All of the wounded who 
were not able to walk were instantly tomahawked 
and scalped. The entire number of men taken into 
captivity was forty-one. of whom five were officers 
and thirty-six privates. 

The ambush had been laid by the Indians with 
the most consummate skill. They had been ap- 



314 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



prised of the approach of the large force led by Gen- 
eral Clarke, and had at first intended to attack it, but, 
beine informed that it was defended by a brass can- 
non, an instrument of warfare which they held in 
superstitious dread, had abandoned their design, 
After the passage of General Clarke and his men 
down the river, they had lurked in the neighborhood, 
watching for stragglers. Their vigilance was soon 
rewarded by the capture of Captain Shannon and 
four of his men. On searching the person of Shan- 
non they found the letter which had been written by 
Colonel Laughery to General Clarke, requesting sup- 
plies. This letter they were unable to read, and 
neither their threats nor their blows could persuade 
any of their captives to translate it. Proceeding 
down- the river with their prisoners, they met a party 
of deserters, one of whom translated the letter, and, 
to ingratiate himself with the Indians, volunteered 
other valuable information ; so that, while Colonel 
Laughery's detachment was journeying by easy stages, 
fondly hoping to soon receive abundance of pro- 
visions and ammunition, their enemies were assem- 
bling in force and laying the plans of attack and 
capture. 

The Indians chose a position of great natural 
strength, a few miles below Lauo-herv's Creek, as 
the point of attack. Here they concealed their 
canoes in the bushes, and disposed themselves on 
both sides of the river, awaiting the appearance of 
the whites. They calculated on capturing the whole 
party without a struggle, and to this end placed their 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 3 I 5 



prisoners in a conspicuous position on the Indiana 
shore, commanding them to hail the boats as they 
passed, and advise their companions to surrender. 
But being informed by their runners that Laughery 
and his men had put ashore at the mouth of the 
creek, and were totally unprepared for attack, one 
party of the Indians marched up the stream, while 
the other launched the boats and awaited the signal 
of attack, when they rowed swiftly to the concerted 
place, arriving just in time to intercept the fugitives. 

Under the escort of their Indian captors, the prison- 
ers were marched rapidly through the wilderness in the 
direction of Chillicothe, at that time one of the most 
important of the Indian villages in the Ohio Valley. 
They were subjected to the harshest treatment — all 
being tightly pinioned, and obliged to walk many 
miles without intermission or refreshment. The In- 
dians in whose hands they had fallen were cruel and 
barbarous beyond measure, and, whenever a prisoner 
showed the slightest fatigue, or the least disposition 
to murmur, did not scruple to strike their tom- 
ahawks into his head, scalp him, and leave him dead 

in the oath. 
j. 

Two days after the battle on the Ohio, the party 
was joined by a reinforcement of one hundred white 
men and three hundred Indians, and, the following 
day, the whole body of Indian and white warriors, 
with the exception of a sufficient force left to guard 
the prisoners, turned and retraced their steps, it hav- 
ing been determined to proceed in force against the 

white settlements of Kentucky. 
19 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



After their departure the prisoners, guarded by a 
detachment of eighteen British soldiers, commanded 
by a young sergeant, lay in camp for eighteen days. 
At the end of this time a portion of the troops un- 
der the command of Captain Thompson returned, 
having had a successful expedition and wrought 
much damage. The march was then resumed, and 
four days after the party arrived at Chillicothe, 
where all but six were left with the Indians, and 
whence the remaining six were taken in the course 
of a few days by way of the Shawnee villages on 
the Auglaize River to Detroit. 

The recognized leader of the weak and disheart- 
ened captive band was the young man whose his- 
tory we have given in brief, and whose adventures 
we are now about to relate. During the journey 
down the Ohio, Isaac Anderson had shown himself 
to possess remarkable powers of endurance, as well 
as great judgment and sagacity. He was among 
the first to urge upon Colonel Laughery the neces- 
sity of traveling by night, and it was owing greatly 
to his influence that discipline had been preserved 
among the discouraged and murmuring soldiers. 
When the hungry voyagers landed, on the fatal 
morning of the 24th, he had endeavored in vain to 
impress upon his companions that danger was not 
yet over, and to induce Colonel Laughery to station 
guards around the encampment and keep a sufficient 
body of men under arms. When the attack was 
made by the Indians, he was one of the few who 
acted with deliberation ; and, during the brief con- 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 3 I 7 

test which followed, he conducted himself with such 
coolness as not only to be singled out by his sur- 
viving companions as their most competent leader, 
but also to obtain from his captors recognition as a 
brave and daring man, who, unless well secured and 
carefully watched, might give them much trouble. 
In the march through the wilderness Anderson had 
borne the fatigues and hardships incident to the 
journey with great fortitude, and, while at Chilli- 
cothe, had been selected by the Indians as one who 
would afford them great entertainment in running 
the gauntlet. In this ordeal Anderson was badly 
beaten, the Indians laying on their blows most un- 
mercifully; and, when the journey was again re- 
sumed, he was so stiff and sore from the bruises 
which he had received that he was hardly able to walk. 

From the Shawnee towns the party marched 
through a swampy and very unhealthful country 
toward Detroit. On October 4th, 1781, they ar- 
rived in the country of the Mohawks, and here they 
were left by Captain Thompson, their former con- 
ductor, among the Indians, who agreed to take 
them the rest of the way. Seven days later their 
destination was reached, and they were taken into 
the citadel, given good quarters, decently clothed, 
and allowed the liberty of going where they pleased 
in the town until the 4th of November. 

From Detroit the prisoners were taken by way 
of the lakes to Montreal, where they arrived, after 
a very stormy voyage, in about three weeks' time, 
and were delivered to General Spike, the command- 



3 I 8 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

ing officer, who ordered them to be placed in close 
confinement. 

The captives now passed through an experience, 
as prisoners of war, in which they were called upon 
to exercise all of their endurance, and compared with 
which their former trials, though severe, were re- 
garded by them as pleasures. Confined in dark 
and damp rooms, loaded with chains, and placed on 
the scantest and most unwholesome diet, they often 
longed to return to the forest and be subjected again 
to the savage treatment of the brutal Indians. A 
brave man may endure blows, or suffer the extremes 
of acute pain without a murmur ; but when placed in 
solitary confinement, fettered and reduced to childish 
helplessness, existence becomes irksome and death is 
a welcome relief. 

For six months the unfortunate prisoners lay, heav- 
ily chained, in the British dungeons. During this 
period they frequently applied to their jailers for 
better quarters and more humane treatment, but 
each time their requests were denied. Seeing that 
there was no prospect of gaining what they desired, 
and regarding death as preferable to their unhappy 
situation, they at length determined to seek an op- 
portunity of escape, and accordingly set about to 
devise the ways and means of effecting their object. 

The prison in which they were confined was a low. 
long building, situated in St. Mark's parish, at some 
distance from the town, and surrounded by high 
pickets. It was in charge of a vigilant jailer, who, 
during the day-time, had only two or three guards 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 3 TO. 

to assist him. At night, however, it was more care- 
fully watched, several soldiers being stationed around 
it, and a number of sentinels, who were posted along 
the pickets, having it in constant view. 

Learning the nature of the surroundings, Ander- 
son, who took upon himself the conduct of the en- 
terprise, was not long in laying his plans. He con- 
cluded that an attempt to escape by night would be 
attended with great hazard ; for, although he and his 
five companions might succeed in knocking down the 
guards and sentinels, an outcry w T ould instantly be 
raised, the town would be alarmed, and they would 
speedily be retaken. He concluded, therefore, that 
the only feasible plan was to make the effort in the 
day-time, when they would be unperceived from with- 
out, since no one would be on the watch, and since, 
on account of the isolation of the spot, they would 
stand in no danger of being seen from the garrison. 

His next care was to throw the guards off their 
watch, and impress them with the idea that their 
prisoners had become reconciled to the situation, 
and entertained no thought of successful escape. 
In this endeavor he succeeded beyond expectation. 
The guards, seeing that the men were submissive 
and no longer complained of their hardships, gradu- 
ally allowed them greater freedom, and at length 
associated with them on familiar terms. Growing 
less and less watchful, they finally permitted them 
the freedom of the premises ; and since, like all sol- 
diers, they were lovers of the bottle, made them their 
companions in their convivial moods. 



3 20 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



One morning toward the close of May, 1782, 
Anderson, seeing his jailers to be more friendly 
and less vigilant than usual, proposed a drinking 
bout. This was agreed to; the bottle was passed 
round, and before long the soldiers were all stretched 
out senseless on the floor, leaving their prisoners, 
who had imbibed less freely, to come and go at 
freedom. 

While one of the party made a careful reconnois- 
sance, the others quickly visited the jailer's room in 
search of weapons and provisions. Unfortunately, 
however, they obtained only a few knives and toma- 
hawks and a scant stock of food ; but, though they 
were disappointed, they secured something which 
was no less valuable than what they sought, — a 
small compass. 

Finding the coast clear, the adventurers now scaled 
the pickets, and started down the island on which the 
city of Montreal stands. It was about two o'clock in 
the afternoon, and, as they were not yet out of dan- 
ger, they were obliged to proceed with great circum- 
spection, knowing that, if they fled precipitately, any 
one who chanced to see them would guess their pur- 
pose and give the alarm. 

Soon after they had left the prison, they met a 
party of three British soldiers on horseback, just 
returning from a hunting expedition. Anderson 
instructed his men to preserve silence, unless spoken 
to, and then, accosting the soldiers civilly, asked 
how far he had to go until he should reach Montreal. 
This inquiry gave the British much merriment, and 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 32 I 



one of them, as soon as he could command his 
gravity, very seriously told his interlocutor that, after 
traveling ten miles further in the direction in which 
he was going, he would reach a small trading station, 
and that he must there inquire for a guide, who 
would take him through the wilderness the rest of 
the way, and bring him to his destination, if the 
weather proved favorable, in about two days' time. 
Anderson received this information with a very puz- 
zled expression of countenance, remarking that he 
had fancied himself to be in the immediate vicinity 
of the city, and had hoped to reach it before dusk. 
At this the soldiers laughed heartily, and went on 
their way, turning around frequently to look back at 
the men, whom they saw standing still, and appar- 
ently debating with great earnestness whether they 
should proceed or return. 

When the soldiers were out of sight, the fugitives 
went on their way, congratulating themselves on the 
successful issue of the adventure. At a point a few 
miles further on, they crossed the St. Lawrence, and 
then struck out through the forest, steering, by the 
aid of their compass, in the direction of the Sorel 
River, which they reached and crossed toward 
evening. 

About midnight they came to a Frenchman's dwell- 
ing, and here Anderson ordered a halt. Taking with 
him one of his companions, he broke open the barn 
and loosed two of the horses. He then killed two 
lambs, and, throwing them over the backs of the 
horses, rejoined his companions. The party rode 



32 2 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

hard all night, and, on the following morning, halted, 
built a fire, and skinned and barbecued the lambs. 
After satisfying their appetites, they rested for 
awhile, and then went ahead with their horses, but 
had gone only about five miles, when they came to a 
very swampy country, where, finding that they could 
make no progress, they were obliged to turn their 
horses loose and proceed on foot. 

This day they marched without stopping. Travel- 
ing in an easterly direction, they reached, about the 
middle of the afternoon, the river Missisque, which 
they crossed on a rude raft, and then went ahead 
two miles, when they halted and encamped for the 
night. 

They had now placed themselves out of the reach 
of pursuit, and felt comparatively secure; but they 
knew that, although there was little danger of being 
overtaken, they still had many risks to encounter, 
since the country through which they were to pass 
was held by the British, and that, therefore, they 
must avoid all towns and settlements, and, instead of 
following the courses of the large streams, preserve 
their route through the wilderness. 

In spite of their precautions, however, they came, 
on one occasion, very near being recaptured. They 
had risen before daybreak, and were marching, as 
they thought, through a desolate, unsettled country, 
when they suddenly heard, directly ahead of them, 
the sound of a drum, beating the reveille. Peering 
through the trees, they saw an English block- house 
at the distance of a few rods. A band of soldiers 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 323 

was drawn up outside, and, had the men gone a few 
steps further, they would have been instantly discov- 
ered, pursued, taken, and again placed in confine- 
ment. 

The journey through the wilderness was attended 
with trials and privations of a singularly distressing 
and disheartening character. Although the spring of 
the year was nearing a close, the season was very 
backward. The nights were extremely cold, and on 
some of the mountains the snow lay quite deep. Nu- 
merous creeks and rivers, swollen by heavy rains, 
obstructed their progress, and nearly all of these 
were so deep that they could not be forded, and rafts 
had to be built to give the means of passage. 

The terrible distresses for want of food which the 
men had suffered while journeying down the Ohio, 
were now again to be experienced. On the 31st of 
May, 1782, five days after their escape, the scanty 
stock of provisions which they had taken with them 
became exhausted. They had no guns with which to 
shoot game, and, as they were in a hostile country, 
they did not dare to apply for relief in any of the 
settlements, lest they shouid be immediately appre- 
hended and sent into captivity. Consequently, it 
was not long before they reached the verge of starva- 
tion. Famished and almost perishing, they were 
obliged to kill and eat their dog ; and, so great were 
their necessities, that, after they had consumed the 
animal, they had nothing on which to subsist but 
roots and reptiles. 

While in this terrible condition, another misfort- 



3 2 4 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



une, equally calamitous in its nature, befell them. 
One evening, after journeying all day through a com- 
paratively open country, guiding their course by the 
sun, they found, on searching their baggage, that 
they had lost their compass. Far from friends and 
country, without supplies of any kind, and weary, 
footsore, and dejected, the terrible thought now 
dawned upon them that their doom had at last been 
pronounced, and that nothing was left but to lie down 
in the forest and wait for death. This, indeed, must 
have been their lot, had not the weather proved pro- 
pitious. On the following day the sun rose bright, 
and by its assistance they were enabled to continue 
on their way, although still suffering, from the want 
of food, the extremes of bodily agony. 

For the next few days the journey was slow and 
painful. The rivers were numerous, and their cur- 
rents very strong, and rafts had to be made at each 
stream to carry them across. The weather was, 
for awhile, very cloudy, and the travelers were 
obliged to follow the course of the rivers, which they 
could now do with safety, for they knew that they 
had gained, by this time, the basin of the Con- 
necticut. 

On the night of the fifth of June, the travel- 
ers had reached the extreme point of fatigue, hun- 
ger, and distress. Their powers of endurance had 
been strained to the utmost, and they were now con- 
vinced that nothing remained for them but to give 
up in despair. Their moccasins had been entirely 
worn out, and, to proceed over the rough, rocky 



THE ADVENTURES OF ISAAC ANDERSON. 325 



ground without some covering for their feet, was out 
of the question. They had eaten nothing during the 
day, and how to procure an evening meal was a 
problem to which there seemed to be no solution. 

While they were in this dilemma, one of the men 
who had been out in search of food, returned, bring- 
ing with him some toads which he had caught. 
These were roasted and divided among the men, 
who all ate voraciously. Soon after, every member 
of the party was taken deathly sick. The vile stuff 
which they had consumed acted on their shattered 
constitutions as a powerful poison, and, writhing with 
intense pain, they lay through the night, expecting 
every moment that the next would be their last. 

The effects of the unwholesome food were not, 
however, sufficiently deleterious to endanger their 
lives. On the following morning they arose, and, 
though greatly weakened, made a shift to continue 
their journey. They had contrived, the evening be- 
fore, to replace their worn-out moccasins by rough 
temporary ones, made from their leggins, and, resolv- 
ing to proceed as long as there was life in their 
bodies, they again pushed forward. 

Toward the end of this day, to their great joy, 
they reached an American settlement, where they 
were given refreshments by the inhabitants, and 
halted for a few hours. Resuming their journey 
the same night, they came to the Connecticut 
River; and, anxious to be again within bounds of 
civilization, crossed it and after a few hours' rest 
continued on their way. 



326 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Arrived on American soil, among countrymen and 
friends, the travelers now felt that their hardships 
were over. They still, however, had many long 
and weary miles to go and much fatigue to endure ; 
but having borne, for the sake of freedom, all the 
privations and terrors of the wilderness, they were 
not disposed to murmur at any slight trials which 
they might be obliged to undergo before obtain- 
ing the full fruition of their hopes. They marched 
down the Connecticut to a point several miles from 
its mouth, where they crossed it and proceeded 
direct to Philadelphia, and thence to their homes 
in Western Pennsylvania, arriving at their desti- 
nation on the 1 6th day of July, 1782, nearly two 
months after their escape from Montreal. 

The rest of the men who were taken by the In- 
dians at Laughery's defeat were held in captivity 
until the next year, when the conclusion of the 
treaty of peace between Great Britain and the 
United States set them free. Their experience, 
though very trying, was less eventful than that of 
Anderson and his companions, and has therefore 
been omitted from the present narrative. 

Isaac Anderson afterward removed to Butler 
County, Ohio, where he purchased a tract of land, 
and resided until his death in 1839. He was a man 
of considerable prominence. An account of his 
subsequent life is given in Mr. James McBride's 
" Pioneer Biography," to which we refer those of 
our readers who may desire to know more pf him. 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



THE object of the present work is not so much 
to give full and exhaustive accounts of particular 
individuals, as to present, in an attractive form, some 
of the most interesting and characteristic incidents 
in the lives of famous adventurers, illustrative of 
the struggles, privations, virtues, and heroism of 
the early Western settlers. The work possesses, 
therefore, less of the biographical than of the nar- 
rative character ; and the sketches which it contains, 
although they have been made as full as circum- 
stances would permit, advance very few pretensions 
to biographical completeness. 

The lives of Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton, 
the two most famous of the Western pioneers, are 
so replete with incident that, with a due regard to 
the requirements of this work, it is impossible to 
relate them at length. In our accounts of these 
adventurers we have, therefore, instead of giving 
connected narratives, introduced only a few of the 
more interesting incidents in their careers. It is 
hoped that our readers will find the method which 
we have adopted equally pleasing, if not equally in- 
structive, with that which has usually been employed. 
Daniel Boone was born in Western Pennsylvania, 

(3*7) 



328 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



August 22, 1734, of respectable parents. While 
Daniel was still a boy his father removed to the 
banks of the Yadkin, in North Carolina. From 
early youth he led a roving and adventurous life ; 
and, growing up in the wilderness, became so 
accustomed to privation, and so inured to hard- 
ships and trials of all kinds, that his only desire 
was to avoid the paths of quiet and ease, follow 
the haunts of the hunter, and live and die in his 
native forests. 

In 1767, Findley, the celebrated adventurer, re- 
turned from a long and dangerous journey to the 
West with glowing reports of the exceeding beauty, 
fertility, and grandeur of the country which he had 
visited. He spoke in terms of unbounded enthu- 
siasm of its immense resources ; and in language 
calculated to fill the soul of the hunter with de- 
light, described the wonders of the expanseless do- 
main, which he said was filled with innumerable 
herds of buffalo and deer, and occupied by the 
greatest abundance of small game in the most in- 
conceivable variety. 

Findley's account of this beautiful and boundless 
hunting-ground acted like a charm on the mind of 
so bold an adventurer and so true a woodsman as 
Daniel Boone, and he immediately determined to 
visit it. Accordingly, early in the spring of 1769, he 
set out, in company with Findley and four others, 
to explore and take possession of the enchanted 
region. 

Although some of Boone's biographers have de- 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



3 2 9 



scribed him, at the time of his departure on this 
memorable expedition, as a man of but twenty or 
twenty-five years, burning with all the fire and 
energy of uncontrolled youth, and thoughtlessly 
rushing forward, anxious to meet and experience 
every danger which the life of the frontiersman 
can offer, he was in reality approaching the me- 
ridian of life ; and, far from being rash or incon- 
siderate, he was as sagacious as he was bold, and 
as prudent as he was fearless. Unlike the impetu- 
ous Kenton and Brady, he added temperateness 
and perfect self-control to physical daring; and the 
secret of his great success in his subsequent life 
lay as much in his profound sagacity and admirable 
coolness as in his superior powers of body and un- 
conquerable intrepidity. 

Boone's person has been often described; but, if 
the accounts of him which have come down to us 
are accurate, no description can do him justice. 
His form was tall and commanding; his frame was 
gigantic, sinewy, and perfectly proportioned; his feat- 
ures, though rough-hewn and in no respect hand- 
some, were very attractive and indicative of the 
greatest independence and resolution. His eye 
was particularly large, fine, and piercing; and in 
every appearance the man was the perfect type 
of the bold Western pioneer, hunter, and advent- 
urer. 

The expedition started from the settlement in 
which Boone lived, on the banks of the Yadkin, 
and proceeding due west, under the direction of 



330 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Findley, commenced the ascent of the mountains. 
Their journey was toilsome in the extreme; and, 
before half of the distance had been accomplished, 
some of the men began to murmur and besought 
their leader to return. But as they went on the 
bravery and indifference to danger manifested by 
Findley and Boone soon inspired the rest of the 
party with a like fortitude ; and, the march growing 
less trying as they advanced, all pushed forward 
resolutely, determined to succeed in their enter- 
prise, and not to complain if danger rather than 
fortune, and hardship rather than comfort, fell to 
their lot. 

While crossing the mountains an incident oc- 
curred which gave Boone an opportunity of show- 
ing the material of which he was made. One night 
he and a companion named Holden were on watch, 
guarding the camp while the rest of the party slept. 
It was about midnight, and the two sentinels were 
sitting, with their rifles between their knees, listening 
to the deep breathing of the sleepers. Suddenly a 
terrible shriek, resembling the shrill cry of a fright- 
ened woman or child, broke the stillness of the night. 
Both men instantly sprang erect. Holden, trembling 
and terrified, convulsively grasped the arm of his com- 
rade and exclaimed, "What is that?" " Silence!'* 
replied Boone, who was more familiar with the woods 
than his friend; 4 'do not wake the rest. Take your 
gun and come with me." 

Holden, not daring to disobey, did as he was 
ordered. The two stole silently from the camp, and, 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 33 1 

after proceeding for some distance, Boone halted, 
whispering to his companion that they would wait for 
a repetition of the cry. In a few minutes the scream 
was again heard, louder and more fearful than before, 
Boone was now satisfied, and again telling Holden 
to follow, groped his way cautiously through the 
bushes, in the direction from which the sound came. 
Occasionally he stopped to look round, holding his 
rifle as he did so, ready to shoot at any moment. 
At length he touched his companion, and, by a pre- 
concerted agreement, the two sank quietly to the 
ground. Holden now saw directly in front of him 
two large balls of light that gleamed and sparkled 
with an intense brightness, like coals of fire. He 
whispered to his companion, asking him if it was not 
a panther ; but Boone was at that moment absorbed 
in his favorite occupation, and did not answer. He 
took a deliberate aim, and, when certain of success, 
fired. A hideous yell of pain instantly resounded 
through the wood. Then came a crashing noise, as 
of some huge animal leaping through the underbrush, 
and Boone, satisfied with the success of his shot, told 
his companion that it was a panther, and that it 
probably would be found the next morning. They 
then returned to the camp. Its remains were not 
found, as Boone had expected, and the party jour- 
neyed on. Two days after, while marching through 
a thick growth of bushes, an animal stretched on the 
ground attracted attention. It was examined and 
found to be a dead panther; and, comparing the size 

of the ball which had killed it with that of the bullets 
20 



332 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



in Boone's pouch, it was evident that it was the 
animal which he had shot at. 

The intervening ridges of mountains were at 
length passed, and the travelers stood on their 
farthest western spur. A scene incomparably grand 
and beautiful opened before them. It seemed as if 
they were gazing into paradise itself, for they could 
scarcely believe that any earthly prospect could be 
so magnificent. The vast plain was covered with 
illimitable stretches of forests, and watered, as the 
travelers thought, by an almost innumerable number 
of winding river courses. " This is Kentucky," said 
Findley to his companions. " It is a glorious coun- 
try!" exclaimed Boone, with enthusiasm, and, after 
gazing for a few moments in wonder and delight, he 
threw his rifle over his shoulder, and descended, with 
his companions, to take possession of this hunter's 
Elysium. 

The first few days after their entrance into the 
beautiful country of which they now regarded them- 
selves as the rightful owners, they spent in hunting 
and killing buffalo, immense herds of which ranged 
the forests and trampled over the broad and fertile 
plains. None of the party, except Findley, had be- 
fore enjoyed this noble and exhilarating sport. 
Boone soon proved himself to be superior to all of 
his companions, both as a marksman and as a saga- 
cious hunter, and before many days had passed 
dozens of these magnificent animals fell before his 
unerring aim. He was so carried away with his new 
life that he determined to pass the remainder of his 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 333 

days in this favored region. "Ay," he said in reply 
to one of his companions who commented on the 
beauty and richness of the country; "Ay, and who 
would remain on the sterile pine hills of North Car- 
olina, to hear the screaming of the jay, and now and 
then bring down a deer too lean to be eaten? This 
is the land of hunters, where man and beast grow to 
their full size." 

For six months the adventurers passed the time 
most pleasantly, meeting no Indians, and having no 
disagreeable experience. Nearly all of the hunters 
now believed that they were the sole occupants of the 
country, and that all that remained was to return for 
their families and settle it. But Boone, who was less 
credulous, told his companions that, from certain in- 
dications, he was convinced that they should, sooner 
or later, meet all the Indians that they could care to 
encounter, and that, as for being left to take sole and 
peaceable possession of the country, they would do 
well if they held their own. We shall see that his 
belief was not ill-founded. 

On the 22nd day of December, Boone, with a com- 
panion named John Stewart, determining to pen- 
etrate the heart of the country, and learn something 
of its character throughout its western extent, left 
the camp and boldly struck out through the wilder- 
ness. They promised their companions that, after 
they had secured the objects of their enterprise, they 
would return and give a report of what they had seen. 

Traveling leisurely, they passed through a region 
of the most surpassing beauty and fertility. Finally, 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



one day, at nightfall, they came in view of the Ken- 
tucky River, and, pausing on the brink of this 
stream, they gazed for awhile in the most undisguised 
astonishment and admiration at the magnificent 
scenery which presented itself to their view. A 
lofty eminence was before them, and, as they sup- 
posed that it would afford them a far view of the 
meanderings of the river, they ascended it. Their 
hope was realized. A broad stretch of country was 
spread out before them, and, in the light of the set- 
ting sun, it presented an aspect so noble and delight- 
ful that they involuntarily recalled their first view of 
Kentucky, and declared that even that grand pros- 
pect could hold no comparison with the one which 
now rejoiced their sight. 

On the following morning they commenced the 
descent of the hill, intending to resume their jour- 
ney. Little thinking of danger, they passed leisurely 
along, with their rifles carelessly resting on their 
arms. While passing a thick cane-brake, Boone 
heard a slight rustling noise, and was instantly on 
the alert, thinking that he- should soon have a shot 
at a deer. But, to his dismay, he saw a number of 
Indians crouched on the ground, with their guns 
raised ready to shoot in case he made the least 
movement. Instantly afterward the dreaded war-cry 
burst on his ears, and a numerous party of savages 
rushed forward. Both he and Stewart were im- 
mediately seized, disarmed, and bound, and, guarded 
by several stalwart savages, marched to an Indian 
encampment a few miles distant. 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



335 



Boone's discretion and sagacity now stood him in 
good stead. Neither he nor his companion under- 
stood a word of the Indian tongue, but he readily 
comprehended that the only way to avoid death was 
to appear reconciled to his lot, and go forward with 
speed and courage. Although Stewart was not so 
well-versed in strategy as his companion, he was a 
brave man, and was naturally hopeful in disposition ; 
and he, also, advanced with seeming alacrity. 

When the Indians saw that their captives were 
cheerful and content, and were not disposed to mur- 
mur at any of their exactions, they gradually relaxed 
their severity, and were less strict in guard. On the 
seventh night of the captivity they made a great fire, 
and, throwing off all restraint, permitted Boone and 
Stewart to associate with them on equal terms, feast- 
ing them liberally, and, when the time for rest arrived, 
allowing them to lie down where they chose without 
a guard. Boone, giving his companion the cue, 
affected to be very tired, stretched himself in front 
of the fire, and, in a short time, closed his eyes, ap- 
parently in deep sleep. 

One by one the savages retired. Finally nothing 
was heard in the encampment but their heavy and 
measured snores. Listening intently, in order to as- 
certain whether there was any fear of discovery, 
Boone, satisfied that no one was on the watch, opened 
his eyes and peered cautiously round. In a few mo- 
ments he rose to a sitting posture, and softly awak- 
ened his companion. With the greatest care Boone 
and Stewart now lifted themselves to their feet, and, 



336 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



creeping step by step, as silent as death, succeeded 
in getting out of the circle of their foes. Casting an 
expressive glance at his companion (for he did not 
dare to speak, even in a whisper), Boone next made 
his way to the place where the rifles had been laid. 
Stewart followed ; each secured a gun and ammuni- 
tion, the forest was reached, and, in a few moments, 
the fugitives were on their way toward the camp of 
their friends. 

They traveled with the utmost expedition, and, on 
the evening of the second day, arrived at their desti- 
nation. Uncertain whether to hesitate or go for- 
ward — for they were in doubt with regard to the safety 
of their comrades — they approached it cautiously. To 
their surprise, it was deserted and no trace remained 
to indicate what had become of its former occu- 
pants. They evidently had not been killed, for there 
was no sign of recent violence ; and Boone concluded 
that they had either been attacked while in camp, and 
taken prisoners, or else that they had returned home. 
The mystery, however, was difficult to solve ; and, it 
may be added that, to his dying day, Boone received 
no intelligence whatever of the unfortunate men, and 
that his final conclusion was that they had been car- 
ried off by the savages, and either killed by them 
or else adopted into one of their tribes. 

On the day after the arrival of Boone and Stewart 
at the deserted camp, they were alarmed, about dusk, 
by the report of two guns, and, fearing that the 
Indians from whom they had escaped had followed 
their trail, and were bent on their recapture, they 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



337 



concealed themselves in a thick undergrowth of 
bushes, and awaited developments. Presently they 
perceived, at some distance, two forms gliding among 
the trees toward the spot where they lay concealed ; 
and they were immediately convinced of the cor- 
rectness of their suspicions. The forms came nearer, 
and the men looked anxiously toward them, seeking 
to ascertain whether they were friends or foes ; but, 
owing to the uncertainty of the light, they could not 
distinguish. Slowly and cautiously the mysterious 
forms approached, until finally they arrived within 
speaking distance. Grasping his rifle, Boone boldly 
stepped forward, and, in a firm voice, addressed them 
with the challenge : 
"Who comes there?" 

"White men and friends!" was the prompt reply. 

" Come on, then !" rejoined Boone, and the next 
moment, to his inexpressible delight, his hand was 
seized by his brother, who, with a single companion, 
had left North Carolina, crossed the mountains, and 
penetrated the wilderness in search of him and his 
party. That night was spent in thanksgiving and 
rejoicing. Hope, which had sunk so low in the 
breasts of Boone and Stewart, again revived ; proj- 
ects of exploration and adventure were formed by 
the enthusiastic hunters, and for the moment the 
dangers to which they were subjected from the wil- 
derness and from hostile Indians were forgotten. 

The next morning the four adventurers rose be- 
times. Boone succeeded in killing a fine buck before 
breakfast, and, after making a bountiful repast on 



338 the back-woodsmen. 

the animal, the hunters struck out in a southerly di- 
rection, with the intention of exploring that unknown 
region. 

Soon they discovered, by certain signs, that they 
were in a dangerous neighborhood. Two large In- 
dian trails were noticed, and, on two or three occa- 
sions, the reports of distant rifles were heard. 
Boone, who was the recognized leader of the party, 
ordered that they should keep close together, and 
that on no condition should any one leave his com- 
panions for a moment. In spite of this strict injunc- 
tion, however, he was himself the first to disregard 
its terms. In the eagerness of pursuing a wounded 
buffalo, he rashly separated himself from the rest of 
the party. He was followed by Stewart. The ani- 
mal was killed, and the two friends started to return ; 
but, before they had gone far, a number of savages 
rushed upon them from a canebrake, and discharged 
a flight of arrows. Stewart fell, pierced to the heart, 
but Boone providentially escaped, and, by swift run- 
ning reached the camp, when, informing his two 
companions of their danger, he ordered them to fol- 
low him ; and the party flew with such speed that 
they succeeded in getting away, and the designs of 
the crafty Indians were baffled. 

Soon after this calamitous adventure, another of 
the party suffered an equally ruthless, and a still more 
melancholy fate. The companion of Boone's brother 
one day became separated from his friends. He did 
not return, and the two Boones, alarmed for his 
safety, sought for him long and painfully. The miss- 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



339 



ing man was not found, and the brothers were left 
alone in the wilderness. A few days afterward 
Boone picked up some torn and bloody shreds of 
clothes, and, a short distance from the place where 
these were found, the bones of a human being lay 
scattered on the ground. The unfortunate man, they 
now concluded, had been attacked by wild animals 
and torn to pieces. This, indeed, was his fate, for 
he was never heard of afterwards. 

Boone and his brother were now the solitary white 
occupants of this wild and dangerous region. They 
lamented the sad fates of their companions, but, as 
they were bold and fearless, they did not despair, 
and, resuming their march through the forest, deter- 
mined to be of good cheer, and expect a fortunate 
future as the reward of heroism and effort. 

In the course of a few weeks, the adventurers 
found, to their great concern, that their supply of 
ammunition was nearly out, and it was accordingly 
decided that one of them should return to North 
Carolina for fresh quantities, while the other should 
remain in the forest. Lots were drawn, and the 
performance of the mission fell upon Boone's brother. 

For several months Boone remained alone in the 
Kentucky wilderness. To most men, a situation so for- 
lorn, and seemingly so perilous, would have been quite 
the opposite of agreeable. But the romantic grand- 
eur of the country, where not a tree had been felled, 
and not a habitation had been raised, was, to the ad- * 
venturous nature of Daniel Boone, an inexhaustible 
source of delight; and, as he often *declared after- 



340 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



wards, some of the most rapturous moments of his 
life were passed in his lonely rambles through this 
unbroken wilderness. Although he saw many signs 
of Indians, and often heard their savage yells, and 
got glimpses of their dusky forms, while he lay con- 
cealed in canebrakes, or among the branches of 
trees, he fortunately never came to an encounter 
with them. 

His brother returned on the twenty-seventh day 
of July, 1770, with the supply of ammunition which 
he had gone to fetch. For nearly a year longer the 
brothers ranged the forest with a fearlessness and 
hardihood scarcely credible. Finally, in March, 
1 77 1, they left their wild haunts, and set out for 
their homes in North Carolina. The journey was 
made in safety ; and Daniel Boone, after an absence 
of two years, during which time he had tasted neither 
bread nor salt, and seen no human being but his 
brother, his unfortunate companions, and his savage 
enemies, once more enjoyed, for a time, the quiets 
and comforts of domestic peace. 

Before many months had passed, Boone, tiring of 
his uneventful life, formed the resolution to remove 
his family to the beautiful and delightful country which 
had been to him the source of so much agreeable ad- 
venture. Accordingly, on the 26th of September, 
1773, he started with his wife and children and a 
body of emigrants for Kentucky. 

In Powell's valley the party was joined by five 
more families and a reinforcement of forty men well 
armed. The whole body now consisted of nearly 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



343 



eighty persons, — certainly a sufficient number to in- 
spire confidence in the hearts of even the most 
timorous. 

Marching across the ridges of the Alleghanies, 
the emigrants enjoyed a safe and agreeable jour- 
ney until they reached the west side of Walden's 
ridge, a range of the Cumberland Mountains. They 
were here destined to experience a most appalling 
reverse of fortune. 

On the ioth of October, while they were making 
their way through a narrow defile, a terrible yell 
suddenly burst from a neighboring wood, and an 
Indian war-party rushed forward, surrounded them, 
and, before the men had time to repel the attack, 
discharged a volley into their midst. Six men were 
killed and a seventh man wounded. Boone immedi- 
ately rallied his party; a general discharge followed, 
many of the Indians fell, and the rest of the attack- 
ing party, who had not looked for so stubborn a 
resistance, were thrown into confusion and fled in 
terror. 

When the men were certain that their enemies 
had in reality been repulsed, and did not meditate 
another assault, they proceeded to look to their 
killed and wounded, and to collect their horses, 
many of which had run away. To his unspeakable 
sorrow, Boone found that his eldest son was among 
the killed. Grief-stricken and disheartened, he threw 
himself on the ground and wept like a child. In a 
moment, however, he recovered his usual composure, 
arose, and gave the order to proceed. 



344 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



A new discouragement was in store for him. The 
women and children were terrified, and clamorously 
besought him to return. Most of the men stood 
sullen and dejected, and, on his addressing them, 
signified their determination to abandon the enter- 
prise. Entreaties and threats were alike vain: and 
Boone was finally obliged to give his consent to the 
request which his companions made with so great 
unanimity, turn back, and retrace his steps to a 
settlement on the Clinch River, forty miles from the 
scene of action. 

At this place Boone was obliged to remain, unem- 
ployed and inactive, during the winter and spring. 
No representations of his regarding the beauty, fer- 
tility, and security of the Kentucky country could 
induce his companions to again take up the march. 
Finally, in June, 1774, he received a message from 
Governor Dunmore, of Virginia, requesting him to 
act as a guide to a party of surveyors, whom he was 
about to dispatch to the Falls of the Ohio. Boone 
complied with alacrity. The journey was made, and 
he returned with still more favorable reports of the 
grandeur of the country. 

In 1775, Boone set out with a party of about 
twenty men on another expedition to Kentucky. 
His object this time was to mark out a route and 
clear a road for the passage of pack-horses and 
emigrant wagons. This duty was extremely labo- 
rious, and before long he found it very dangerous. 
His little band of followers was attacked on the 
2 2d of March by a vastly superior force of Indians, 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 345 



The savages were in the end repulsed with heavy- 
loss, but four of the whites were killed or wounded. 
On the next day the enemy again appeared and 
assailed the intruders with great fury. They were 
not driven back until five more of the devoted band 
fell victims to their wrath. Continuing his progress 
in spite of all obstacles, Boone finally arrived, on 
the 1 st day of April, at a point which, from the 
advantages of its natural position, seemed to afford 
a good location for a settlement. He accordingly 
called a halt, and with his companions set to work 
to build a fort. The Indians, enraged at the pre- 
sumption of the white men in attempting to con- 
struct a habitation in the midst of their favorite 
hunting-ground, made numerous attacks ; but noth- 
ing could equal the resolution and perseverance of 
Boone, who, encouraging his men in their labors, 
pushed the work forward so rapidly that in fourteen 
days the structure was completed. The fort, which 
he named Boonesborough, was no sooner built than 
he departed, returned to Clinch River, and, disposing 
of every thing which he possessed, except his most 
necessary private effects, removed with his family 
to the Kentucky settlement. Mrs. Boone and her 
daughters were the first white women who stood 
upon the banks of the Kentucky River. 

Thus established on a firm footing, the infant 
colony soon grew in size and strength until it em- 
braced a number of families, and was fortified by a 
respectable garrison. Encouraged by the successful 
enterprise of Boone and his comrades, adventurers 



34^ 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



from the East and North-east were not slow to seek 
the Kentucky wilds and develop the remarkable re- 
sources of that favored region. Settlements sprang 
up all along the Kentucky banks of the Ohio; and 
in the course of a few years the country which had 
before been an unbroken wilderness began to assume 
a civilized aspect. 

Before, however, this change took place, the lit- 
tle band of pioneers at Boonesborough had to pass 
through a most trying experience. The Indians 
were troublesome and vindictive, and made many 
attacks on the fort. "The garrison was incessantly 
harassed by flying parties of Indians. While plow- 
ing their corn they were waylaid and shot; while 
hunting they were chased and fired upon ; and some- 
times a solitary Indian would creep up near the fort 
in the night and fire upon the first of the garrison 
who appeared in the morning. They were in a con- 
stant state of anxiety and alarm, and the most ordi- 
nary duties could only be performed at the risk of 
their lives." 

During these years of struggle, danger, and hard- 
ship, Boone was constantly watchful and active. To 
him the garrison owed not only its original existence, 
but indeed its preservation through the long and 
bloody Indian wars. On several occasions he him- 
self very narrowly escaped. One of his adventures 
is thus related by an entertaining writer : 

44 One morning, in 1777, several men in the field 
near Boonesborough were attacked by Indians, and 
ran toward the fort. One was overtaken and toma- 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 347 



hawked within seventy yards of the fort, and, while 
being scalped, Simon Kenton shot the warrior dead. 
Daniel Boone, with thirteen men, hastened to help 
his friends, but they were intercepted by a large body 
of Indians, who got between them and the fort. At 
the first fire from the Indians, seven whites were 
wounded, among them the gallant Boone. An In- 
dian sprang upon him with uplifted tomahawk ; but 
Kenton, quick as a tiger, sprang toward the Indian, 
discharged his gun into his breast, snatched up the 
body of his noble leader, and bore it safely into the 
fort. When the gate was closed securely against the 
Indians, Boone sent for Kenton: 4 Well, Simon,' said 
the grateful old pioneer, ' you have behaved yourself 
like a man to-day; indeed, you are a fine fellow.' 
Boone was a remarkably silent man, and this was 
great praise from him." 

Though Boone escaped death, he was not destined 
to live entirely free from misfortune. In February, 
1778, he, with twenty-seven companions, was sur- 
prised by a large war-party of Indians and compelled 
to surrender. The prisoners were well treated by 
their captors, who, for their race, were very humane; 
and were marched forthwith to Chillicothe, the cel- 
ebrated and important Indian village. 

The sagacity and shrewdness which characterized 
Daniel Boone's entire career, and which he displayed 
so signally during his first captivity among the sav- 
ages, did not desert him at this critical juncture. He 
at once accepted the inevitable, showed himself to be 
tractable and submissive, and soon became such a 



348 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



favorite with his captors that, far from devoting him 
to torture, or in any way maltreating him, they at 
once proposed to admit him into their tribe, and 
would listen to no offers of ransom. On arriving at 
Chillicothe, he was treated with the greatest consid- 
eration, and the simple savages, pleased with the 
thought that so famous a hunter had voluntarily 
joined their numbers, admitted him into their coun- 
cils and permitted him to participate in their games 
and revels. He was always invited to their shooting- 
matches, and on these occasions he displayed his 
acute observation and thorough knowledge of man- 
kind in a most admirable manner. He was aware 
that, particularly among the Indians, no feeling was 
more painful, or awakened greater resentment, than 
the sense of inferiority; and he shot well enough to 
make it an honor for his opponents to excel him ; 
but took care not to beat them too often. 

Soon after his arrival at Chillicothe, Boone was 
taken to Detroit. Here he met the British official, 
Governor Hamilton, who, sympathizing deeply with 
him in his misfortunes, and entertaining the profound- 
est regard for his character, at once offered one hun- 
dred pounds for his ransom ; but the affection of the 
Indians for their prisoner was so great that, after a 
brief consultation, they refused the tempting prize. 
A number of English gentlemen, who saw and con- 
versed with the captive, were also very favorably im- 
pressed, and a large subscription purse was made up 
and offered to the savages in exchange for the pris- 
oner. It was now that Daniel Boone's high and 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 349 

noble spirit of independence displayed itself in a 
most remarkable manner. He thanked his admirers 
for their good opinion, and expressed his sincere 
gratitude for the generosity which actuated them ; but 
he manfully refused to accept favors which it would 
never be in his power to return. He then turned 
to the savages and signified his readiness to accom- 
pany them back into captivity. 

A few days after, the Indians set out with their 
prisoner for Chillicothe. Boone was received with 
great distinction; but when the warriors, who had 
gone with him to Detroit, told their companions of 
his conduct, their enthusiasm for the noble Kentuck- 
ian exceeded all bounds. No longer suspecting him 
of any secret design to escape, they allowed him to 
exercise perfect liberty of action. They frequently 
sent him out to hunt ; but, in order that he might not 
be enabled to take advantage of any temptation 
which might be thrown in his way, they allowed him 
but a limited quantity of ammunition, and required 
him to bring in a dead animal for every ball and 
charge of powder given him. 

To his great concern, Boone discovered, soon after 
his return from Detroit, that a large war-party of In- 
dians was being organized for the purpose of march- 
ing against his companions at Boonesborough. The 
braves who had already gathered numbered about 
one hundred and fifty, and this formidable band was 
to be reinforced by other parties on the way. Boone 
knew that the settlers would be totally unprepared 

for attack, and feared that, unless they were warned 
21 



35° 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



of the intentions of their enemies, they would be 
crushed at one blow. He determined, at any cost, to 
escape, march quickly to the fort, and take every 
necessary measure for protecting the lives and prop- 
erty of his friends from their ruthless enemies. 

Boone soon laid his plan of action. He continued 
to hunt as before, but, with a craftiness truly admira- 
ble, he outwitted his vigilant masters. He still gave 
a strict account of the bullets which he received, and 
voluntarily turned over all the powder and ball in his 
possession each evening upon his return from the 
hunt, together with game for each bullet and charge 
which he had used in the course of the day. But, 
though seemingly so exact, he contrived to lay up a 
quantity of ammunition for his proposed journey. 
Each morning, on setting out, he took about a dozen 
balls from his pouch and divided them with his knife. 
Half of the balls which he thus divided he used in 
the chase ; the other half he carefully secreted in a 
hole. By using very small charges he managed to 
lay aside a quantity of powder. When he had ac- 
cumulated a sufficient store in this way, and made 
his final observations on the band of hostile warriors, 
he set out early one morning, secured the hidden 
ammunition, and started for home. He traveled with 
all possible dispatch. The distance was above one 
hundred and sixty miles ; and some idea of the re- 
markable powers of Boone may be obtained when it 
is stated that, although at this period nearly fifty- 
seven years old, he performed it in four days' time. 
His anxiety was so great that he ate but one meal on 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



351 



the way. He was received by the garrison as one 
risen from the dead. Every one supposed him to 
have been killed, and his wife had, under this im- 
pression, returned with her children to North Car- 
olina. The works of the fort were immediately re- 
paired ; new gates, new flanks, and double bastions 
were made, and in a few days what had been a dilap- 
idated structure on Boone's return, was a tower of 
strength. 

The event proved that Boone's arrival was very 7 
opportune. The savages, owing to his escape, de- 
termined to postpone their attack ; but, in the course 
of a few weeks, skirmishing parties began to appear, 
and these were soon followed by the main body of 
savages, eight hundred strong, which, investing the 
fort, prepared to give it a regular siege. 

In the severe trial which followed, Boone's wisdom 
and heroism shone conspicuous. To describe the 
siege in detail would extend this sketch beyond all 
bounds ; and it therefore will be sufficient merely to 
give its general results. It lasted for eight days, 
and on the ninth the attacking party, seeing no pros- 
pect of speedy success, and thoroughly discouraged 
by the great loss which they had suffered, gave up 
the attempt and returned. The garrison lost two 
men killed and four wounded. The loss of the be- 
siegers was thirty-seven killed and many wounded. 
This was the last siege ever experienced by the set- 
tlers at Boonesborough, since the country was now 
well opened, and since a number of thriving settle- 
ments had sprung up between the fort and the Ohio. 



352 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Boone's captivity at Chillicothe was his last ex- 
perience as a prisoner among the Indians. On sev- 
eral other occasions he came very near being en- 
trapped, and once, as our readers shall hear, was 
actually taken ; but each time he saved himself by 
flight or presence of mind. The following char- 
acteristic incident will illustrate his great intelligence 
and remarkable mastery of strategy : 

" He was once resting in the woods, with a small 
number of followers, when a large party of Indians 
came suddenly upon them and halted — neither party 
having discovered the other until they came in con- 
tact. The whites were eating; and the Indians, with 
the ready tact for which they are famous, sat down 
with perfect composure and commenced eating also. 
It was obvious that they wished to lull the suspicions 
of the white men, and to seize a favorable opportu- 
nity for rushing upon them. Boone affected a careless 
inattention ; but, in an under tone, quietly admonished 
his men to keep their hands upon their rifles. He 
then strolled towards the Indians, unarmed, and leis- 
urely picking the meat from a bone; the Indian 
leader, who was similarly employed, rose to meet 
him. ' 

"Boone saluted him, and then requested to look 
at the knife with which the Indian was cuttine his 
meat. The chief handed it to him without hesitation ; 
and our pioneer, who, with his other accomplish- 
ments, possessed considerable expertness at sleight 
of hand, deliberately opened his mouth and affected 
to swallow the long knife, which, at the same instant, 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



353 



he threw adroitly into his sleeve. The Indians were 
astonished; Boone gulped, rubbed his throat, stroked 
his body, and then, with apparent satisfaction, pro- 
nounced the horrid mouthful to be very good. Hav- 
ing enjoyed the surprise of the spectators for a few 
moments, he made another contortion, and drawing 
forth the knife, as they supposed, from his body, civ- 
illy returned it to the chief. The latter took the 
point cautiously, between his thumb and finger, as 
if fearful of being contaminated by touching the 
weapon, and threw it from him into the bushes. The 
pioneer sauntered back to his party ; and the Indi- 
ans, instantly dispatching their meal, marched off, 
desiring no farther intercourse with a man who could 
swallow a scalping-knife." 

The amusing - anecdote given below is taken from 
Peck's "Life of Boone:" 

"Though the delicacy of Colonel Boone's organ- 
- ization was such that he could never himself relish 
tobacco in any form, he still raised some for his 
friends and neighbors, and for what were then 
deemed the essential rites of hospitality. 

"As a shelter for curing the tobacco, he had built 
an inclosure of rails a dozen feet in height and cov- 
ered with canes and grass. Stalks of tobacco are 
generally split and strung on sticks about four feet in 
length. The ends of these are laid on poles placed 
across the tobacco-house, and in tiers one above 
another, to the roof. Boone had fixed his temporary 
shelter in such a manner as to have three tiers. He 
had covered the lower tier, and the tobacco had be- 



354 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



come dry ; when he entered the shelter for the pur- 
pose of removing the sticks to the upper tier, prepar- 
atory to gathering the remainder of the crop. He 
had hoisted up the sticks from the lower to the sec- 
ond tier, and was standing on the poles which sup- 
ported it, while raising the sticks to the upper tier, 
when four stout Indians, with guns, entered the low 
door and called him by name. 

" 1 Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away 
more. We carry you off to Chillicothe this time. 
You no cheat us any more.' 

" Boone looked down upon their upturned faces, 
saw their loaded guns pointed at his breast, and rec- 
ognizing some of his old friends, the Shawanese, who 
had made him prisoner near the Blue Licks in 1778, 
coolly and pleasantly responded : 

" 'Ah, old friends, glad to see you.' 

" Perceiving that they manifested impatience to 
have him come down, he told them he was quite will- 
ing to go with them, and only begged that they 
would wait where they were, and watch him closely 
until he could finish removing the tobacco. 

"While thus parleying with them, Boone inquired 
earnestly respecting his old friends in Chillicothe. 
He continued for some time to divert the attention of 
these simple-minded men, by allusions to past events 
with which they were familiar, and by talking of his 
tobacco, his mode of curing it, and promising them 
an abundant supply. With their guns in their hands, 
however, they stood at the door of the shed, grouped 
closely together so as to render his escape apparently 



BOONE ESCAPES BY STRATEGY. 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. T>57 



impossible. In the meantime, Boone carefully gath- 
ered his arms full of the long, dry tobacco leaves, 
filled with pungent dust, which would be blinding and 
stifling as the most powerful snuff, and then with a 
leap from his station twelve feet high, came directly 
upon their heads, filling their eyes and nostrils, and 
so bewildering and disabling them for the moment, 
that they lost all self-possession and all self-control. 

" Boone, agile as a deer, darted out at the door, 
and in a moment was in his bullet-proof log-hut, 
which to him was an impregnable citadel. Loop- 
holes guarded every approach. The Indians could 
not show themselves without exposure to certain 
death. They were too well acquainted with the un- 
erring aim of Boone's rifle to venture within its 
range. Keeping the log-cabin between them and 
their redoubtable foe, the baffled Indians fled into 
the wilderness. 

" Colonel Boone related this adventure with great 
glee, imitating the gestures of the bewildered Indians. 
He said that, notwithstanding his narrow escape, he 
could not resist the temptation, as he reached the 
door of his cabin, to look around to witness the effect 
of his achievement. The Indians coughing, sneezing, 
blinded and almost suffocated by the tobacco dust, 
were throwing out their arms and groping about in 
all directions, cursing him for a rogue and calling 
themselves fools." 

The following remarkable anecdote of Boone is 
taken from the " Ornithological Biography" of the 
renowned naturalist, J. J. Audubon, who, during his 



358 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



travels in America, visited the famous hunter in his 
home in Missouri, to which he removed from Ken- 
tucky in about 1800: 

" Daniel Boone, or, as he was usually called in the 
Western country, Colonel Boone, happened to spend 
a night with me under the same roof, more than 
twenty years ago. We had returned from a shoot- 
ing excursion, in the course of which his extraordi- 
nary skill in the management of the rifle had been 
fully displayed. On retiring to the room appropri- 
ated to that remarkable individual and myself for 
the night, I felt anxious to know more of his exploits 
and adventures than I did, and accordingly took the 
liberty of proposing numerous questions to him. 

" The stature and general appearance of this wan- 
derer of the Western forests approached the gigantic. 
His chest was broad and prominent, his muscular 
powers displayed themselves in every limb ; his coun- 
tenance gave indication of his great courage, enter- 
prise, and perseverance ; and, when he spoke, the 
very motion of his lips brought the impression that 
whatever he uttered could not be otherwise than 
strictly true. I undressed, while he merely took off 
his hunting-shirt, and arranged a few folds of blan- 
kets on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as he 
observed, than on the softest bed. When we had 
both disposed of ourselves, each after his own fash- 
ion, he related to me the following account of his 
powers of memory, which I lay before you, kind 
reader, in his own words, hoping that the simplicity 
of his style may prove interesting to you : 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 359 

"'I was once,' said he, * on a hunting expedition 
on the banks of the Green River, when the lower parts 
of Kentucky were still in the hands of nature, and 
none but the sons of the soil were looked upon as its 
lawful proprietors. We Virginians had, for some time, 
been waging a war of intrusion upon them, and I, 
among the rest, rambled through the woods in pur- 
suit of their race, as I now would follow the tracks 
of any ravenous animal. The Indians outwitted me 
one dark night, and I was as unexpectedly as sud- 
denly made a prisoner by them. 

"'The trick had been managed with great skill; 
for no sooner had I extinguished the fire of my 
camp, and laid me down to rest in full security, as I 
thought, than I felt myself seized by an undistinguish- 
able number of hands, and was immediately pinioned, 
as if about to be led to the scaffold for execution. To 
have attempted to be refractory, would have proved 
useless and dangerous to my life, and I suffered my- 
self to be removed from my camp to theirs, a few 
miles distant, without uttering a word of complaint. 
You are aware, I dare say, that to act in this manner 
was the best policy, as you understand that, by so 
doing, I proved to the Indians at once that I was 
born and bred as fearless of death as any of them- 
selves. 

" ' When we reached the camp, great rejoicings 
were exhibited. Two squaws and a few papooses 
appeared particularly delighted at the sight of me, 
and I was assured, by every unequivocal gesture and 
word, that on the morrow the mortal enemy of the 



3 6 ° 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



red-skins would cease to live. I never opened my 
lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might 
enable me to give the rascals a slip before dawn. 
The women immediately fell a-searching about my 
hunting-shirt for whatever they might think valuable, 
and, fortunately for me, soon found my flask, filled 
with strong whisky. 

" ' A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous 
countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at 
the anticipation of their intoxication. The crew be- 
gan immediately to beat their bellies and sing, as 
they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth. How 
often did I wish the flask ten times its size, and filled 
with aqua fortis ! I observed that the squaws drank 
more freely than the warriors, and again my spirits 
were about to be depressed, when the report of a 
gun was heard at a distance. The Indians all 
jumped on their feet. The singing and drinking 
were both brought to a stand, and I saw, with in- 
expressible joy, the men walk off to some distance 
and talk to the squaws. I knew that they were 
consulting about me, and I foresaw that, in a few 
moments, the warriors would go to discover the cause 
of the gun having been fired so near their camp. I 
expected that the squaws would be left to guard me. 
Well, sir, it was just so. They returned ; the men 
took up their guns and walked away. The squaws 
sat down again, and, in less than five minutes, had 
my bottle up to their dirty mouths, gurgling down their 
throats the remains of the whisky. 

" ' With pleasure did I see them becoming more 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 361 

and more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of 
them that it was quite impossible for these women to 
be of any service. They tumbled down, rolled about, 
and began to snore, when I, having no other chance 
of freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, 
rolled over and over towards the fire, and, after a 
short time, burned them asunder. I rose on my feet, 
snatched up my rifle, and for once in my life spared 
that of Indians. I now recollected how desirous I 
once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the 
wretches with my tomahawk. But when I again 
thought upon killing beings unprepared, and unable 
to defend themselves, it looked like murder without 
need, and I gave up the idea. 

" 1 But, sir, I felt determined to mark the spot, and, 
walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out of it three 
large chips, and ran off. I soon reached the river, 
soon crossed it, and threw myself into the canebrakes, 
imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet, so that 
no chance might be left for those from whom I had 
escaped to overtake me. 

" ' It is now nearly twenty years since this hap- 
pened, and more than five since I left the whites' set- 
tlement, which I might never probably have visited 
again, had I not been called upon as a witness in a 
law-suit which was pending in Kentucky, and which, 
I really believe, would never have been settled had 
I not come forward and established the beginning of 
a certain boundary-line. The story is this, sir : 

"'Mr. moved from Old Virginia into Ken- 

tucky, and, having a large tract granted to him 



362 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



in the new State, laid claim to a certain parcel of 
land adjoining Green River, and, as chance would 
have it, took for one of his corners the very ash 
tree on which I had made my mark, beginning, as it 
is expressed in the deed, "At an ash marked by three 
distinct notches of the tomahawk of a white man." 

" ' The tree had grown much, and the bark had cov- 
ered the marks. But, somehow or other, Mr. 

had heard from some one all that I have already said 
to you, and, thinking that I might remember the spot 
alluded to in the deed, but which was no longer dis- 
coverable, wrote for me to come and try at least to 
find the place or the tree. His letter mentioned that 
all my expenses should be paid ; and, not caring much 
about once more going back to Kentucky, I started 

and met Mr. . After some conversation, the 

affair with the Indians came to my recollection. I 
considered for awhile, and began to think that, after 
all, I could find the very spot, as well as the tree, if 
it were yet standing. 

"'Mr. and I mounted our horses, and off we 

went to the Green River bottoms. After some diffi- 
culty—for you must be aware, sir, that great changes 
have taken place in those woods — I found at last the 
spot where I had crossed the river, and, waiting for 
the moon to rise, made for the course in which I 
thought the ash-tree grew. On approaching the 
place, I felt as if the Indians were there still, and as if 

I were still a prisoner among them. Mr. and I 

camped near what I conceived the spot, and waited 
until the return of day. 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BOONE. 



363 



" 1 At the rising of the sun I was on foot, and, after 
a good deal of musing, thought that an ash-tree, then 
in sight, must be the very one on which I had made 
my mark. I felt as if there could be no doubt about 
it, and mentioned my thought to Mr. . 

"'"Well, Colonel Boone," said he, "if you think so 
I hope that it may prove true, but we must have some 
witnesses. Do you stay hereabouts, and I will go 
and bring some of the settlers whom I know." 

" ' I agreed. Mr. trotted off, and I, to pass 

the time, rambled about to see if a deer was still liv- 
ing in the land. But, ah ! sir, what a wonderful dif- 
ference thirty years makes in a country ! Why, at 
the time when I was caught by the Indians, you would 
not have walked out in any direction more than a 
mile without shooting a buck or a bear. There were 
then thousands of buffaloes on the hills in Kentucky. 
The land looked as if it never would become poor ; 
and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. 
But when I was left to myself on the banks of Green 
River, I dare say, for the last time in my life, a few 
signs only of the deer were seen, and, as to a deer 
itself, I saw none. 

" < Mr. returned, accompanied by three gentle- 
men. They looked upon me as if I had been Wash- 
ington himself, and walked to the ash-tree, which I 
now called my own, as if in quest of a long-lost 
treasure. I took an ax from one of them, and cut 
a few chips off the bark. Still no signs were to be 
seen. So I cut again, until I thought it time to be 
cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my 



3^4 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



butcher-knife until I did come to where my toma- 
hawk had left an impression on the wood. We now 
went regularly to work, and scraped at the tree with 
care, until three hacks, as plain as any three notches 

ever were, could be seen. Mr. and the other 

gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow that I 
was as much surprised as pleased myself. I made 
affidavit of this remarkable occurrence in presence of 

these gentlemen. Mr. gained his cause. I left 

Green River forever, and came to where we are 
now ; and, sir, I wish you a good night.' " 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



THE qualities which made the sagacious Boone 
the most famous and successful of the early 
Western pioneers we find almost entirely lacking in 
the fiery Kenton. The achievements of the latter, 
regarded in the light of merit, were indeed as re- 
markable as those of the former; but, regarded in 
the light of real value and consequence, they were 
comparatively insignificant. Boone was identified 
with actions of lasting importance, and shaped the 
course of events rather than followed the current ; 
whereas Kenton was but a participator in move- 
ments originated by others. Boone, besides being 
a man of the greatest physical powers and the 
most unquestioned intrepidity, had every intellectual 
quality of the successful leader, and, under different 
circumstances, might have obtained lasting renown 
as a general. Kenton possessed all of Boone's cour- 
age, and was in physical resources his peer, but he 
lacked his high mental endowments; and his part in 
life was rather that of the brave and faithful soldier 
than that of the wise and competent leader. An 
account of his life, therefore, is an account of the 
remarkable achievements of a daring man, who acts 

solely in the capacity of a private adventurer. His 

(365) 



366 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



performances, during his life among the Indians, are 
so truly wonderful that, to all who value remarkable 
exhibitions of strength and daring for their own 
sakes, a description of some of the more striking 
incidents in his life can not but be highly inter- 
esting. 

According to the commonly received account, 
Simon Kenton commenced his adventurous career 
at the youthful age of sixteen. The immediate 
cause of his adopting the life of the woodsman is 
said to have been the terror and remorse which 
he felt at the unfortunate issue of a personal en- 
counter with a young neighbor named Leitchmann, 
whom he punished so severely that he left him 
lying apparently lifeless. This incident has been 
so often related that very few of our readers will 
care to hear it in the present connection ; but, as 
it strikingly illustrates the character of young Ken- 
ton, it can not fail to serve a useful purpose. It is, 
in brief, as follows : 

At the distance of a few rods from the house 
of Kenton's father lived an old farmer who had a 
daughter as coquettish as she was attractive. Her 
charms won for her a great many suitors among 
the young men of the neighborhood, but her natu- 
rally vain and frivolous disposition induced her to 
decline a number of advantageous proposals in 
order that she might retain the rest of her ad- 
mirers. 

Among those who paid assiduous court to this 
fair coquette was young Kenton. As he was at 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



367 



this time but a mere boy, being not over fifteen, 
his addresses gave the young lady a great deal of 
merriment; and, following her mischievous dispo- 
sition, she determined to put the ardor of her suitor 
to the proof. She accordingly affected total indif- 
ference to all but Kenton and one other — an awk- 
ward, hulking, farmer's son, about twenty-one years 
old, named Leitchmann. Employing all of her art, 
she managed to inspire young Kenton with a feel- 
ing of the greatest scorn and resentment for his 
rival, who, in his turn, soon came to regard the 
youth with a contempt which finally induced him to 
offer an open affront. 

Moved to wrath and fury at what he considered the 
impudence of his rival, Kenton determined to wreak 
vengeance. He accordingly challenged Leitchmann 
to combat; and, the challenge being accepted, the 
rivals repaired to a lonely spot in the wood to adjust 
their difficulties. 

Not suspecting Leitchmann of any dishonorable 
intentions, Kenton went unaccompanied. But, upon 
arriving on the ground, he found a number of the 
farmer's friends, who at once began to taunt him in 
a most insulting manner. He permitted their re- 
marks to pass unregarded, stripped off all of his 
clothing but his pants, and announced himself pre- 
pared for the fight. 

Leitchman stepped promptly forward, and Kenton 
at once dealt him a furious blow. It was returned 
by the young farmer with such interest that Kenton 
drew back and placed himself on his guard. Leitch- 



368 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



mann, confident that his superior years and strength 
would give him the advantage, made a desperate 
lunge at the youth, but Kenton succeeded in warding 
it off. Seeing that he could not stand against his 
opponent in stubborn battle, Kenton continued to 
act on the defensive until he had wearied him; and 
then, at once changing his tactics, he called forth all 
of his vigor, and, by a series of quick and dexterous 
blows, so annoyed the clumsy Dutchman that he was 
glad to take the defensive. The chances now turned 
in favor of Kenton ; and he would have enjoyed a 
speedy and complete triumph had not Leitchmann's 
friends suddenly interfered and declared with em- 
phasis that the contest had long since been decided 
against Kenton, and bade the youth to return home 
and never again attempt to encounter a man who was 
so decidedly his superior. At this arbitrary act, Ken- 
ton stood still, and, glaring furiously at the cowardly 

fellows, denounced them as d d villains, and offered 

to thrash each of them single-handed. He was im- 
mediately seized, and the men, picking up a number 
of staves, proceeded to belabor him vigorously. He 
was pounded until he fairly believed that every bone 
in his body was broken, and was shown no mercy until 
he was rendered too feeble to make the slightest move- 
ment by way of resistance, when he was thrown on 
the ground and left to his meditations. 

When he recovered from the effects of this punish- 
ment, Kenton took the first opportunity of informing 
his rival that he should some day call him to account 
for his conduct. He prudently resolved, however, 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



369 



that he would not again encounter his foe until, by 
increased strength, he should be enabled to do so 
with fair prospects of success, and he waited patiently 
for another year. On his sixteenth birthday he rose 
early in the morning, walked over to Leitchmann's 
house, and, calling him, told him briefly that he de- 
sired a second encounter. The Dutchman replied 
that he would endeavor to accommodate him; and, 
without more ado, the rivals repaired together to the 
wood. 

In the combat which followed, Kenton fought with 
all the dexterity and wariness which he had displayed 
at first ; but Leitchmann, knowing the methods of his 
opponent, was more guarded than he had been. In 
spite of all of Kenton's activity, he was thwarted by 
Leitchmann, and finally, after a severe struggle, was 
thrown to the ground. His vindictive foe instantly 
sprang upon him, and kicking, biting, and pound- 
ing him with the most malignant fury, cursed him 
savagely, and heaped upon him every species of 
abuse. 

While he was enduring this terrible punishment, 
Kenton, casting his eye toward a small bush which 
grew a few feet from where he lay, suddenly con- 
ceived a happy design. He looked up at his oppo- 
nent, and then again at the bush, and, satisfied that 
he could by a strenuous effort accomplish his pur- 
pose, he promptly went to work to secure what he 
was convinced would be a full and dreadful revenge 
for all the wrongs which he had suffered. 

Giving a heavy groan, he turned on one side, in 



37o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



the direction of the bush, just as his enemy, after a 
brief pause, had commenced to kick and club him 
with added violence. Another groan, and he again 
rolled over; and, repeating the action two or three 
times, groaning as if in deep agony, he finally lay 
within a few feet of the bush, with Leitchmann stand- 
ing over him. Watching his opportunity, he sud- 
denly sprang from the ground, and, before his as- 
tonished foe could defend himself, pushed him over 
on the bush, and in a second wound his hair, — which 
was very long, and therefore well adapted to the pur- 
pose, — around its thick, tangled branches. With a 
cry of exultation, Kenton then called forth all of his 
power, and gave him a stunning kick in the head. 
Remembering the injuries which he had suffered a 
year before, and wrought to fury by the cowardly 
conduct of Leitchmann in taking advantage of him 
when down, he was but ill-disposed to grant mercy 
where no mercy had been shown; and he retaliated 
with such violence that, in a few moments, the Dutch- 
man gave a deep sigh, sank to the ground, and, after 
a few gasps, closed his eyes and lay quivering, appar- 
ently in the agonies of death. 

The malignity and wrath which had held uncon- 
trollable sway in the breast of Kenton now gave 
way to remorse and terror. He found, though too 
late, that he had overstepped the bounds not only 
of humanity, but of vengeance itself, and that, in- 
stead of merely chastising his opponent, he had 
cruelly murdered him. His mind was agitated by a 
thousand terrible thoughts; and, fearing that he 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



37* 



would be immediately apprehended, tried for his 
act and hung, he cast a last glance at his appar- 
ently expiring foe, and then quickly fled. 

He directed his steps due west, avoiding the 
settlements and traveling through the thickest of 
the wilderness. He soon passed the part of the 
country where the stations were most numerous, 
and arrived in the neighborhood of Warm Springs, 
in the western part of Virginia. At this place he 
encountered a man named Johnson, an exile from 
the State of New Jersey, who was on his way across 
the mountains ; and, joining him, he left the borders 
of civilization and pushed into the unexplored wil- 
derness. 

Kenton started on his journey about the middle 
of May, 1 77 i. Johnson had with him a pack-horse, 
laden with a few necessaries and a small quantity 
of flour. He also had two rifles and a store of am- 
munition. One of his guns he gave to Kenton, and 
thus provided with abundant means of subsistence 
and defense, the adventurers crossed the country and 
arrived at a settlement on the Cheat River, a tribu- 
tary of the Monongahela. Parting company with 
his friend at this point, Kenton met a small company 
which had been organized for the purpose of exploring 
the West, and, joining it, he descended the river to a 
place called Province's Settlement, where he fell in 
with two young adventurers named Yager and 
Strader. 

Yager had been taken prisoner by the Indians in 
his childhood, had been for many years a captive 



372 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



among them, and had traveled with them in their 
hunting excursions over a large part of the West. 
Seeing that Kenton was a young man of a fiery and 
adventurous spirit, anxious to face and brave all of the 
dangers of frontier life, he took him into his confi- 
dence, and told him that some distance to the south 
there was a beautiful country which the Indians called 
Kan-tuck-ee, which was so fertile that every species 
of vegetation grew spontaneous, and was so abun- 
dantly stocked with game that thousands of years 
could not exhaust its immense resources. He said, 
moreover, that this region was entirely uninhabited, 
and he concluded by telling Kenton that he was about 
to return to it, and requested him to bear him com- 
pany. 

Kenton listened to Yager's description with delight, 
and his eye flashed as he eagerly closed with the pro- 
posal. Preparations were at once made for the jour- 
ney ; a boat was built, a supply of provisions was 
laid in, and Yager, Kenton, and Strader set out for 
the land of promise. 

Yager's recollections of the beauty of the hunting- 
grounds over which he had wandered with the In- 
dians while a youth, proved to be more vivid than 
his knowledge of reaching it was accurate. Instead 
of coming to it, as Yager had predicted, in the course 
of a few days, they traveled for many weary weeks 
without seeing any signs of it, and they finally deter- 
mined to abandon their search and devote their atten- 
tion henceforth to hunting and trapping. 

For nearly two years Kenton and his comrades 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



373 



applied themselves to this congenial and, as it 
proved, profitable occupation. They met with re- 
markable success, exchanging their furs with the 
traders at Fort Pitt for clothing and other neces- 
saries. Thus they lived in the full enjoyment of 
their forest life, until March, 1773, when a sweeping 
calamity deprived Kenton and Yager of their com- 
panion,- obliged them to abandon their pursuit, and 
threw them, without any means of supporting life, 
into the most trying and distressful circumstances. 

One day, while reposing in their tent after an un- 
usually successful hunt, a terrific yell was heard, and 
a body of Indian warriors, about fifty strong, ap- 
peared on the outside. Immediately fifteen or 
twenty shots were fired, and a number of savages 
rushed into the tent. Kenton and Yager sprang to 
their feet, but Strader had been killed. Kenton, with 
remarkable presence of mind, drew his knife and 
made a gash in the canvas opposite the door, and 
then, quickly forcing himself through the opening 
thus made, he bounded through the throng of sav- 
ages that encircled the tent and escaped. Yager 
was not slow to follow, and, though a number of In- 
dians started in pursuit, the fugitives were too fleet 
for them, and soon reached a place of safety. 

Owing to the precipitation with which they fled, 
they did not have time to secure either their rifles or 
their blankets ; and, as they did not dare to return, 
they were left without means of providing them- 
selves for the future. But the only thing which re- 
mained was to accept the situation and go forward, 



374 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



and they accordingly struck out boldly through the 
wilderness for the Ohio. 

Their sufferings during the march were acute, and, 
indeed, almost past endurance. They are thus de- 
scribed by one of the most interesting of our West- 
ern narrative writers : 

" Directing their route by the barks of trees, they 
pressed forward in a straight direction for the Ohio, 
and, during the first two days, allayed the piercing 
pangs of hunger by chewing such roots as they could 
find on their way. On the third day their strength 
began to fail, and the keen appetite which, at first, 
had constantly tortured them, was succeeded by 
a nausea, accompanied with a dizziness and a sink- 
ing of the heart, bordering on despair. On the 
fourth day, they often threw themselves upon the 
ground, determined to await the approach of death; 
and as often were stimulated by the instinctive love 
of life to arise and resume their journey. On the 
fifth, they were completely exhausted, and were able 
only to crawl at intervals. In this manner they trav- 
eled about a mile during the day, and succeeded, by 
sunset, in reaching the banks of the Ohio. Here, to 
their inexpressible joy, they encountered a party of 
traders, from whom they obtained a comfortable sup- 
ply of provisions." 

For a year or two following this adventure Ken- 
ton was connected with various exploring parties, 
and acted also in a scouting capacity in an expedi- 
tion against the Indians on the Kanawha. Finally, 
in 1775, still bent on discovering the beautiful coun- 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



375 



try which Yager had described to him, he induced 
two friends to join him in a journey which he pro- 
posed to make in search of it. 

After many weeks constant travel, during which 
they explored the Ohio to some distance on each 
side, they reached the neighborhood of May's Lick, 
and here, for the first time in the course of their 
wanderings, they were convinced that Yager's glow- 
ing account indeed had some foundation in truth. 
The country was very beautiful, and the soil was 
surprisingly fertile. As they advanced they per- 
ceived signs of buffalo, and before long, to their 
amazement and delight, they found themselves in 
the midst of the enchanted region. The souls of 
the hunters were filled with rapture, and Kenton, 
leading the way, pushed forward to explore the 
country. 

After many days spent partly in killing buffalo, 
deer, and elk, and partly in examining the ground 
with reference to the selection of a convenient place 
for erecting a settlement, the adventurers chose a 
location in the vicinity of the present town of Wash- 
ington, and proceeded to build a cabin. Their habi- 
tation was completed in the course of a few days, 
and the settlers then cleared about an acre of ground 
in the center of a large canebrake and planted it with 
Indian corn. 

For some time Kenton and his two comrades 
enjoyed a life of unbroken pleasure and success. 
Like Boone and his party on their first visit to 
Kentucky six years before, they hunted and trav- 



37^ 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



eled without any incident occurring to mar their 
happiness, and, like them, they finally concluded that 
they were the sole possessors of this delightful re- 
gion. In common with their predecessors, however, 
fortune at length deserted them, and a most terrible 
circumstance brought them to a realization of the 
dangers of their situation. 

While strolling aimlessly one day through the 
country along the banks of the Licking River, Ken- 
ton, who was some distance in advance of his com- 
rades, heard a low moan from a thicket on his right, 
coming apparently from a man in deep distress. He 
halted on the instant, and placed himself in an atti- 
tude of defense, fearing that some deception was 
being practiced upon him, for he knew that the Indi- 
ans had a way of decoying their enemies by imitating 
sounds calculated to excite sympathy or awaken cu- 
riosity. He stood on his guard, and in a moment 
the moan was repeated. It was followed by another, 
evidently from a second person, and, still listening, 
Kenton heard the voice of a man muttering, in per- 
fectly intelligible English, bitter words of complaint. 
His suspicions were now quieted, and his sympathies 
awakened ; and, advancing softly, he forced his way 
through the bushes, and soon came to the spot from 
which the sounds proceeded. 

Stretched on the ground in a helpless and, to all 
appearance, dying condition, Kenton saw two white 
men, stripped almost naked, who were so emaciated 
that their bodies seemed to be mere skeletons, kept 
together by a thin covering of skin. After looking 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



377 



at them for a moment, Kenton stepped forward, and 
kneeling down, spoke to the one whom he had heard 
so bitterly lamenting his miserable lot. The poor 
fellow looked up. When Kenton assured him of his 
friendship, and offered to relieve his necessities, he 
immediately brightened, and, in an eager tone, asked 
for food. Hearing the request of his comrade, the 
other man also revived. Kenton drew a piece of 
venison from a pack which he carried on his shoulder, 
kindled a fire, and made a thick broth, which he gave 
to the starving men. When they were able to rise 
from the ground, he and his two companions took 
their arms, and, telling them to be of good cheer, led 
them off in the direction of the cabin. The journey 
was very tedious, owing to the exhausted condition 
of the men ; and, as they were a considerable dis- 
tance from their forest home, the hunters finally con- 
cluded to encamp where they were until their new 
friends should recover their strength. 

Kenton, on inquiring of them how they came to be 
in the pitiable condition in which he had found them, 
was told that they were from Pennsylvania, and had 
started a few months before for the Ohio settle- 
ments. During the voyage down the river their boat 
had capsized. They had saved themselves by swim- 
ming, but their guns, blankets, and provisions had 
gone down in the stream. They had wandered for 
many days through the wilderness, and had, a few 
hours before they were happily rescued, laid down 
to die. 

When they had related their story, Kenton told 



378 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



them that he had built a station some miles distant, 
and invited them to join him and his companions. 
One of the men, whose name was Hendricks, gladly 
accepted the invitation, but the other would not hear 
of it, and signified his determination to return to the 
Monongahela, saying that he was heartily sick of the 
woods. As he insisted on carrying his purpose into 
execution, Kenton courteously offered to bear him 
company as far as the banks of the Ohio, and, in the 
course of a few days, accordingly set out with his 
two comrades and the stranger, leaving Hendricks 
alone in the camp. 

The journey was made ; the stranger was given a 
gun, blanket, and provisions, and sent on his way, and 
the three hunters returned with all speed. The camp 
was reached, but, to their great concern, they found 
it deserted. A number of articles which had be- 
longed to Hendricks were strewed on the ground, 
and, on examining more narrowly, Kenton found that 
some of the trees which surrounded the camp were 
pierced with bullets. There had, evidently, been an 
Indian attack, and the unfortunate Hendricks had 
doubtless been captured and carried off. 

When he had finished his observations, Kenton 
stood for a moment brooding in the deepest melan- 
choly. Suddenly one of his companions seized him 
convulsively by the arm, and, pointing in the direction 
of a low ravine about a hundred yards distant, 
called his attention to a thick column of smoke, 
which was rising apparently from a fire freshly kin- 
dled. As he did so he whispered in a hoarse voice, 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



379 



and with a face pale as death, " Indians!" and then 
started to run at the top of his speed, followed by 
his other companion. Kenton's first impulse was to 
call to them to return ; but he quickly changed his in- 
tention, for he knew that they were panic-stricken, and 
that a single word would bring a host of Indians 
after him. He therefore followed his comrades' ex- 
ample, and ran away as swiftly as possible. 

After they had gone for several miles, they stopped 
to breathe, and Kenton, who had by this time come 
up to them, reproached them bitterly for their pusil- 
lanimous conduct. He declared that such cowardice 
was in the extremest degree disgraceful, and that if 
exhibitions of this kind were to be repeated in future 
encounters with the Indians, he would take the first 
opportunity of breaking off from companions so faith- 
less, and henceforth shift for himself. 

The men had by this time recovered from their 
fright, and, ashamed to be thus rebuked by a mere 
youth, after a moment's hesitation acknowledged that 
their conduct had indeed been highly culpable, and 
proposed to return and attack the enemy. Kenton 
quickly agreed to this proposal, shouldered his rifle, 
and started back; but before he had gone a dozen 
steps, he was called by one of his companions, who, 
telling him that it would be madness to attack so 
greatly superior a force in broad daylight, said that the 
wiser course would be to wait until dusk. Kenton, 
whose impetuous nature would endure no restraint, 
reluctantly complied, and concealed himself with his 
comrades, awaiting the concerted time. 



380 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

When the first shades of evening appeared, they 
emerged from their hiding-place and started to re- 
trace their steps. They approached the camp cau- 
tiously, but heard no sound, and saw no light but a 
dim, uncertain flicker, as of a fire just expiring. With 
his finger on the trigger of his rifle, Kenton stepped 
boldly forward. The camp was deserted. He ap- 
proached the fire, and here a sight presented itself 
which chilled every vein in his body with horror. 
Lying in the ashes of the fire, he saw the skull and 
the charred remains of a human being! Kenton's 
brave heart sank within him, and, resting the butt of 
his rifle on the ground, he gazed at the smouldering 
pile with feelings of apprehension mingled with the 
profoundest sorrow. The unfortunate Hendricks had 
evidently been burned to death by his savage captors, 
and Kenton bitterly reproached himself for having 
left him to his fate at a time when rescue might have 
been, if not comparatively easy, at least not impossi- 
ble. Slowly, and with the utmost dejection, he re- 
turned with his comrades to the cabin at Washing- 
ton, and once more prepared to live the quiet and 
solitary life of the woodsman. 

The settlers did not again see the face of a human 
being until the month of September, when they acci- 
dentally met a white man who, like them, was wan- 
dering through the woods on a hunting excursion. 
From this man they learned, for the first time, that 
the interior of the country had been opened to 
settlement; and, as they longed to be once more 
among their countrymen, they broke up their 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



381 



camp and accompanied him, at his request, to 
Boonesborough. 

Kenton was now about twenty-one years old. His 
long sojourn in the wilderness had inured him to every 
hardship ; and, though he had not had much personal 
experience among the Indians, his boldness and con- 
tempt for every thing which savored of fear, at once 
marked him as a man who would be eminently useful 
in Indian warfare. 

For two or three years subsequent to his arrival at 
Boonesborough, Kenton was employed constantly as 
a spy. His services were of great value, and he soon 
came to be a universal favorite. By Boone, in par- 
ticular, he was regarded with the highest esteem 
and affection ; and on one occasion, as we have seen, 
he was the means of saving the life of this famous 
pioneer. 

Celebrated among the exploits of Kenton is his 
remarkable adventure while scouting with an expe- 
dition led by Boone against a small Indian town on 
Paint Creek. After crossing the Ohio he went ahead 
of the main body to make observations. He was sud- 
denly startled by a loud laugh from a thicket into 
which he was about to enter, and, concealing him- 
self behind a tree, he soon saw two Indians, mounted 
on a small pony, coming toward him. They seemed 
to be in a most agreeable mood, for they talked and 
laughed gleefully as they rode along. Kenton waited 
patiently. In a moment they came within range. He 
raised his gun, aimed deliberately, and, to his surprise, 
both fell — one being killed and the other grievously 



382 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



wounded; and thus a single ball was made to do 
double execution. 

Before the report of his gun had died away, Ken- 
ton bounded forward, with his scalping-knife and 
tomahawk drawn. To take the scalp of the dead 
Indian was the work of but an instant; and he then 
turned to the wounded savage, intending to dispatch 
him. The fellow was sorely hurt ; but, seeing Ken- 
ton's purpose, he drew his tomahawk from his belt 
and hurled it at him with all the violence which de- 
spair can lend. The dangerous missile fortunately 
did him no harm, and Kenton quickly overcame his 
enemy's resistance and sank his tomahawk in his 
head. 

While in the act of scalping the second Indian, a 
noise in the bushes on his right caused Kenton to 
quickly leave his victim and place himself on his 
guard. Instantly he saw two savages, about twenty 
feet distant, taking aim at him, and he sprang quickly 
to one side. The report of the rifles followed imme- 
diately, and the balls whistled close to his ears. 

Kenton now fled to the shelter of the wood, but, 
being hard-pressed, was obliged to stop and tree. 
He commenced to reload his rifle, but, before he 
had finished, he saw, to his despair, about a dozen 
Indians emerge from a canebrake and make directly 
for the place where he had concealed himself. 

Escape now seemed to be impossible, and Kenton 
was preparing to sell his life as dearly as possible, 
when he heard a ringing voice in the rear, which he 
recognized as that of Boone, shouting to him to keep 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



383 



his stand. Immediately the brave old pioneer ap- 
peared at the head of his men, and, with a shout 
of defiance, rushed forward to attack the enemy. 
Halting, he gave the order to fire, and the Indians 
were given so warm a reception that they quickly 
abandoned their purpose and fled in confusion. Ken- 
ton then left his cover, ran forward and scalped the 
prostrate Indian. 

Soon after this occurrence Kenton was taken pris- 
oner and led into captivity. The story of his life 
among the savages is perhaps the most remarkable 
of all events connected with Western adventure. 
It seems almost past belief that one man could have 
passed through an experience so varied; and we 
must search history in vain to find a more striking 
illustration of the correctness of the saying that 
Fiction can relate nothing so improbable but that 
Truth can parallel it. Kenton was, during his cap- 
tivity, forced to run the gauntlet eight times ; he was 
three times tied to the stake, and he was repeatedly 
subjected to every species of injury and torture which 
a fiendish and enraged enemy can invent or an un- 
happy prisoner can suffer. " For three weeks he was 
seesawing between life and death, and during the 
whole time he was perfectly passive. No wisdom 
or foresight or exertion could have saved him. Fort- 
une fought his battle from first to last, and seemed 
determined to permit nothing else to interfere.' • The 
story of Kenton's captivity is related, in substance, 
as follows, by Mr. William A. Crafts in his " Pio- 
neers in the Settlement of America:" 
23 



3§4 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



''Daring in his excursions, and frequently exposed 
to danger, Kenton at length found that these risks 
could not always be incurred with impunity. Some 
horses having been stolen by a party of Indians, 
Kenton and a few companions started in pursuit, 
determined to recover them. They followed the 
trail, watching for an opportunity to surprise them ; 
but before such a chance occurred the Indians 
reached their village. Entering the village ■ with 
his comrades in the night, while its dusky inhabit- 
ants, unsuspicious that they had been followed, were 
all asleep, the little party not only recovered the 
stolen horses, but took several belonging to the 
Indians, and started back for Kentucky. They 
made all haste to the Ohio ; but when they reached 
that river the waters were high, and a gale made 
them so rou^h that there was danger of losing the 
horses if they attempted to cross, and this was a 
risk of bringing their bold enterprise to an end not 
to be thought of. They accordingly waited for the 
wind to subside ; but this delay was as fatal as they 
feared the attempt to cross the river would be ; for 
the Indians, who had discovered their loss with the 
earliest dawn, had followed, and now overtook them. 
Kenton, less cunning; or less fortunate than he had 
hitherto been, was captured, while his companions 
succeeded in making their escape. 

"When Boone was captured he had never done any 
thing while fighting the savages which specially ex- 
cited their vindictiveness, and his dignified bearing, 
as well as his fame as a skillful hunter, which had 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



387 



spread even among the Indians, secured their respect 
and good-will. But Kenton was known to them either 
personally or as one of a class of daring scouts and 
raiders who were their most active enemies, while he 
was now caught in the act of running off their horses, 
and they were disposed to show him neither respect 
nor mercy. Telling him that since he was so fond of 
horses he should ride one of their best animals, they 
bound him upon a half-broken, unbridled colt, which 
was then turned loose, to follow the party as it chose. 
Unused to such a burden, the animal reared and 
dashed about in the wildest manner, to the great de- 
light of the Indians and the fearful suffering of Ken- 
ton. Rushing unguided through thickets and under 
low-hanging branches, the horse seemed to manifest 
the vicious spirit of his masters, and the unfortunate 
prisoner was terribly lacerated and bruised. 

"In this manner he was carried by degrees to the 
famous Indian town of old Chillicothe, where differ- 
ent methods of torture common among most of the 
savage tribes were resorted to. He was painted 
black and bound to a stake for twenty-four hours, 
subjected to insults and indignities from women and 
children, and expecting a slow and cruel death at the 
hands of the men ; then compelled to run the gaunt- 
let between two lines of savages, — men, women, and 
children, to the number of several hundred, — who, 
with switches, clubs, and even knives, struck at him 
as he passed. As usual, he was told that if he 
reached the council-house at the end of the lines he 
would be spared further punishment; but when, with 



3 88 



THE B v ACK— WOODSMEN. 



desperate effort, he had almost reached this goal of 
safety, he was struck down by a club in the hands of a 
warrior, and then beaten by all who could reach him 
till nearly senseless. This torture was repeated, with 
slight variation, as he was carried from town to town 
and exhibited, previous to his ultimate doom of being 
burned at the stake. 

"The final punishment was to take place at San- 
dusky, and Kenton arrived there just as the rene- 
gade Girty returned from an unsuccessful expedi- 
tion against the frontier settlements of Pennsylvania. 
Equal to the most malignant savage, Girty struck 
the weak and suffering prisoner to the ground, and 
was about committing further violence, when Kenton 
called him by his name and demanded his protec- 
tion. For once the infamous wretch, who never 
before or after was known to show mercy, listened 
to this appeal. Kenton, indeed, had a claim upon 
him which, with all his hatred of his own race, he 
could not but recognize, for in their youth he had 
saved Girty's life. Remembering this, the w r hite 
savage interceded for the captive, and saved him 
from the stake ; and, taking him to his cabin, cared 
for him till he recovered his strength. Then, how- 
ever, the Indians seemed to repent of their leniency; 
and, holding another council, they again condemned 
Kenton to be burned. But fortunately a British 
agent was present, and succeeded in having him 
transferred to himself as a prisoner of war, when 
he was carried to Detroit. With two other Amer- 
icans he escaped from Detroit ; and, running the 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



389 



risk of recapture and certain death, he again trav- 
ersed the Indian country, and after a month's travel 
through the wilderness he reached Kentucky." 

The following interesting anecdote of Kenton, 
which has rarely been in print, but which illustrates 
his character in a most striking and pleasing manner, 
is taken from a published source: 

"Kenton was a great smoker, the most important 
supplies, next to his weapons, being his pipe, pouch, 
and tobacco. Food and clothing he could capture 
with his gun, but not so his tobacco ; and hence his 
zeal to lay in a stock of his luxury before setting out 
on any expedition. But fire to light his pipe was not 
so readily obtainable, it being no little trouble to 
ignite tobacco by flint and steel. It will be remem- 
bered that friction matches were not in common use 
until years after Kenton's day. 

"At one time, when a prisoner in the hands of the 
British at Detroit, he was particularly admired by 
English officers on account of his great strength and 
courage, and the many remarkable exploits for which 
he was famous; and one of these officers, observing 
his fondness for smoking and the difficulty in light- 
ing a pipe, presented Kenton with a powerful pocket 
burning-glass, or lens, by which he could easily focus 
the rays of the sun on the tobacco and set it on fire. 
This thing worked charmingly, and for many years, 
wherever he went, held its place in the pouch with 
his pipe and tobacco. 

"It is an incident in which the sun-glass acted a 
significant part, which I have resolved to relate. 



390 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



"A summer or two after he became possessor of 
the glass, he was again taken captive by a party of 
Indians, who, recognizing him at once, resolved to 
torture him to death immediately, so as to rid them- 
selves of so formidable an enemy before he should 
have time or chance to escape. A stake was driven 
into the ground, and a quantity of dry leaves and 
wood piled about it, and then the chief spoke, in 
broken English : 

'"White chief hungry; eat fire, he feel better!' 

" Kenton replied by asking the privilege of smoking 
his pipe before burning. Now the Indians of certain 
tribes were always singularly generous in response 
to such requests, especially as toward pipe and to- 
bacco they entertained a sort of religious deference. 
Of these they never robbed prisoners nor despoiled 
the bodies of the slain; and among the few sacred 
objects buried with the dead, pipes were always in- 
cluded. It was on account of this superstitious sanc- 
tity that the pipe bore such an important part in the 
ceremonies of a council, and was always smoked as 
a bond of strength between tribes entering into 
treaty together. They never denied a captive's re- 
quest for a smoke, and, therefore, Kenton was imme- 
diately gratified by a grunt of assent. 

"After securing his feet more firmly with leathern 
thongs — for they knew too well his daring and prow- 
ess to give him any advantage — they unbound his 
hands that he might fill and light his pipe, and enjoy 
his last earthly smoke. Deliberately he proceeded 
to crumble up the tobacco and pack it into the pipe- 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



391 



bowl. This done, he placed the long wooden stem 
in his mouth, and seemed ready for flint, steel, and 
tinder with which to light the luxury. With another 
grunt a red man passed him the customary imple- 
ments; but, to his great surprise, Kenton refused 
them. 

" Tfien, with a dramatic gesture, he extended his 
right hand toward the sun in mid-heaven, it being 
about noon, and holding it thus with the burning- 
glass clasped between the thumb and forefinger, he 
dexterously brought it to a focus on the contents of 
his pipe, which in this way was quickly ignited, and 
in a moment he was puffing clouds of smoke from 
his lips. 

"This was beyond the wits of the savages. The 
lens being of glass, and transparent, they had not 
observed it, and evidently believed that he had lighted 
his pipe by simply letting the sunlight pass through 
the circle formed by his thumb and finger. All un- 
concerned he puffed away, while they gathered in an 
excited group a few yards distant, and discussed the 
wonder in grunts and mutterings. 

"In a few minutes he had exhausted the contents 
of the pipe-bowl, and proceeded to refill it. At this 
the red men became silent, and watched him as if he 
were a supernatural being. 

" While crumbling the tobacco the glass lay unseen 
at his side ; and when he was ready to light up again, 
with another still more dramatic gesture, he seized 
the lens and held it toward the sun, and, with three 
or four cries of mysterious and startling import to 



392 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

the Indians, began whiffing the bluish smoke as 
before. 

" By this time the superstition of the savages was 
in full operation, and they were ripe for almost any 
display of Kenton's supposed supernatural power. 
Probably no people on the whole globe were ever 
more sensitive to such influences than the native 
tribes of North America. What they could not com- 
prehend they dreaded with craven fear, especially 
if it emanated from the sun or clouds. Seeing his 
advantage, Kenton stretched forth his hand again, 
holding the glass so as to kindle the leaves near him. 
Then, with a strange, wild cry, he swung his arms 
above his head, adroitly shifted the lens to his left 
hand, and then quickly started a smudge in another 
place. 

" Next, struggling to his feet, tied though they were, 
he gave an almost superhuman leap — jumping being 
Kenton's special forte — and brought himself to the 
heap of fagots that had been gathered for his par- 
ticular entertainment, and, seating himself near them, 
went through a pantomime more weird than before, 
whereupon a flame blazed up around the stake, as if 
the victim were already fastened to it, and ready for 
torture. 

" His next performance was to beckon to the chief 
to come and unbind his ankles. The mystified Indian 
hesitated, but finally ventured cautiously forward, as 
if not daring to disobey such a man, and began with 
nervous fingers to fumble at the deerskin door. 

" While thus engaged, Kenton lifted one hand, and 



ANECDOTES OF KENTON. 



393 



instantly a lurid, blistering point of fire fell on the 
red man's wrist. With an 'Ugh!' he jerked his 
hand away, only to feel the burning focus on his head. 

"This was too much for even an Indian's nerves, 
and, with a cry of terror, the old chief sprang away 
and ran to the nearest tree, behind which he took 
shelter. The rest of the savages imitated their 
leader, leaping behind adjacent trees ; and while, with 
wondering eyes, they stared at Kenton, he proceeded 
leisurely to unbind his own ankles. 

"This done, he waved his arms toward the sun, as 
if giving thanks or invoking further aid ; and then 
went to a powder-horn, dropped by one of the Indi- 
ans, and withdrawing the stopple, placed it as he 
wanted it, fixed his sun-glass so that the focus would 
enter the horn, and, stepping toward the Indians, 
gesticulated fiercely at them. Instantly there was a 
vivid flash and a roar, the powder-horn disappeared, 
and the frightened savages fled as if the 'Great 
Spirit' had suddenly come to destroy them. 

"At this, Kenton considered himself master of the 
field, and, in less time than it takes to tell it, flung 
upon the fire whatever the Indians had left behind 
them, seized his own property that they had taken 
from him, gun and garments, and made haste from 
the scene. 

" A few years later, when peace had been restored 
between Americans and English, and the Indians 
were on pacific terms with the ' Hunters of Ken- 
tucky,' Kenton had the pleasure of meeting at a 
* pow-wow ' with some of the warriors who had com- 



394 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



posed the party so signally worsted by a sun-glass. 
They knew him at once, and showed an ungoverna- 
ble fear as he came forward to shake hands. During 
the ' pow-pow ' he often detected them gazing at him 
with furtive glances, and, as he still had the lens, he 
mischievously seized the first opportunity to call down 
fire from the sun to light his pipe again, accompany- 
ing it with strange gestures. 

" Afterward he learned that they believed him to 
be in league with the 'Great Spirit,' and able, if he 
wished, to summon the sun to battle for him." 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



AMONG the stories of adventure, captivity, and 
providential deliverance related of the early set- 
tlers, that of John Slover is justly famed in the 
annals of the West. With the single exception of 
the extraordinary escape of Simon Kenton, that of 
Slover can fairly be said to be without a parallel. 

John Slover was a native of Virginia. In early 
youth he was taken prisoner by a band of Indians 
and carried to Sandusky, where he was raised, and, 
when he grew up, adopted by his captors. In 1773, 
at the treaty of Pittsburgh, he was seen and recog- 
nized by some of his relatives ; and at their urgent 
solicitation he left his savage associates and rejoined 
► his family, with whom he lived in peace and quiet 
for some years. During the Revolution he served 
with credit in two campaigns, and after finishing his 
tour of duty was honorably discharged. 

In 1782, Slover was induced to join an expedition 
organized under the leadership of the gallant, though 
unfortunate, William Crawford to proceed against the 
Wyandot villages on the Sandusky. Although he at 
first hesitated to take part in an enterprise which had 
as its object the annihilation of a tribe to which he 

had formerly belonged, and for which he still enter- 

(395) 



396 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



tained many friendly feelings, he at length consented, 
since he regarded his duty as a citizen paramount to 
any personal preferences which he might entertain. 

The disastrous issue of Crawford's expedition is 
told in brief in another place. * The whole body 
of whites was cut to pieces, and the few who sur- 
vived were forced to fly for their lives. 

Among the fugitives was John Slover, who, with 
five companions, attempted to rescue himself by em- 
ploying the bold strategy of marching, instead of 
east for the settlements, south-west in the direction 
of the Shawnee villages, and then following an east- 
erly course. The party was pursued by mounted 
Indians, and two or three times came near being 
surprised, for the savages rode close past them; but 
during the first two days they fortunately escaped 
discovery by hiding themselves in the long and thick 
prairie grass. 

On the morning of the third day of their flight they 
were fired upon by a band of Indians, who, it appears, 
had followed their trail, and, coming up to them, had 
taken a circuitous route, placed themselves in an 
advantageous position in front, and awaited their ap- 
pearance. Two of the men dropped dead. The 
other four, at the command of Slover, quickly took 
cover behind trees and prepared to defend them- 
selves. But they had only two rifles, and their 
chances of success were very slight; and as one of 
the Indians called to them in a loud voice request- 
ing them not to fire, since he would see to it that 

*See p. 508. 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



397 



they were treated well, they lost no time in coming 
forward and surrendering themselves. One of their 
number, however, a brave young fellow, named John 
Paul, preferring flight to captivity, made off, suc- 
ceeded in outrunning his pursuers, and reached 
Wheeling in safety. 

The savages had no sooner secured their three 
captives than one of them, approaching Slover, 
scrutinized him closely, and then, in tones of min- 
gled astonishment and indignation, called him by 
his Indian name. Slover recognized the warrior as 
one of the most vindictive of the Wyandot braves ; 
and apprehensive that, on being carried to the In- 
dian villages, he would immediately be put to the 
torture for taking up arms against his former breth- 
ren, he commenced to cast about in his mind some 
scheme of escape. No opportunity offered, how- 
ever, and the prisoners were taken to the nearest 
Indian town, a place named Waughcotomoco, where 
Simon Kenton, four years before, had been obliged 
to run the gauntlet. Here the warriors, squaws, and 
boys came out in a body, surrounded the prisoners, 
and gave them the greeting customary on such oc- 
casions, beating them with switches and staves, and 
offering them other indignities. Finally, the oldest 
of the men was seized, and, amidst the yells of the 
savages, was stripped and vigorously rubbed with 
coal and water until his whole body was perfectly 
black. Terrified at this harsh treatment, the un- 
happy captive commenced to cry bitterly, and fre- 
quently asked Slover whether they intended to burn 



398 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



him. Slover was ordered by the Indians not to an- 
swer; and one of the warriors-, seeing the prisoner's 
agitation, came forward and grasped him in a friendly 
way around the waist, as if to caress and reassure 
him, but, suddenly changing his demeanor, tripped 
him up and threw him with great force to the 
ground. 

The man again set up a piteous cry, and a second 
Indian left the crowd and came and sat down by him. 
In a soothing manner he commenced to rub and pat 
his belly, uttering honeyed words as he did so. He 
then turned him over and gently stroked his back. 
He continued his caresses for some time, until finally 
he arose, and, with all the force which he could com- 
mand, gave the poor fellow a tremendous kick in the 
pit of the stomach. This act was followed by a loud 
whoop from the assembled body of Indians, a num- 
ber of whom at once gathered around the pros- 
trate prisoner and kicked and beat him unmercifully. 
When they had abused him to their satisfaction, the 
terrified man was ordered to rise, and the march was 
resumed. 

At a town several miles distant a second halt was 
made. This village, as it proved, was the destination 
of the party, and here the fate of the prisoners was 
to be decided. On their approach the inhabitants 
trooped out to meet them, and two long rows were 
at once formed, extending from the council-house a 
distance of one hundred and fifty yards. Eager for 
their prey, the savages immediately stripped the 
three unfortunate men, and, with a loud and pro- 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



399 



longed whoop, stood in readiness to receive them 
as they passed between the lines. 

The poor fellow who had been so barbarously 
treated at Waughcotomoco was destined to once 
more be the central object of attraction. His body 
was still black, and he naturally excited the vindic- 
tiveness of the Indians in the village, who, supposing 
that he had been marked in this way on account of 
some great wrong which he had done their brethren, 
fell upon him with the most fiendish fury. He was 
started on the race to the goal about twenty yards 
ahead of his companions, and ordered to run for his 
life. A terrible yell greeted him as he entered the 
course at full speed and bounded forward on the race 
of life and death. At the head of the line a huge 
warrior, who had stood awaiting him with every mus- 
cle strained and his club held firmly aloft, dealt him 
a furious blow, which, striking him fairly across the 
small of the back, caused him to double up and roll 
on the ground. Before his enemies had time to 
gather around him, he sprang quickly to his feet, and, 
as agile as a deer, continued his race. A few feet 
further on a large Indian aimed a blow but missed 
him. Disappointed and wrathful, the savage hurled 
his club at the retreating prisoner, which, striking 
him on the head, felled him once more to the ground ; 
but he again quickly rose and made a shift to con- 
tinue his flight. 

Nothing could equal the vindictiveness and cruelty 
of the Indians. They had prepared themselves with 
the most formidable weapons, and did not scruple to 



4-00 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



attack him with all the violence which rage can lend 
to malice. His eyes were blinded by quantities of 
sand which the Indians dashed into his face ; his flesh 
was cruelly gashed and hacked by knives and toma- 
hawks, and, to add to the acuteness of his sufferings, 
loads of powder were fired into his body, and flam- 
ing brands were hurled at him from front and rear. 
Nerved by terror and despair, the unhappy captive 
exerted himself with the most gigantic strength, and 
finally succeeded, though bruised and bleeding in 
every limb, in reaching the council-house, where he 
had been told he would be safe from further injury. 

Gaining the post, he grasped it with both hands ; but 
the Indians, whose fury had not yet been appeased, 
instantly broke ranks and with the utmost violence 
tore him away. Meanwhile Slover and his other 
companion, who had passed almost unregarded 
through the lines, arrived at the goal in safety. 
They now witnessed a sight terrible and heart- 
rending in the extreme. 

The savages immediately commenced to beat their 
victim with heavy war-clubs, and a scene of the ut- 
most confusion followed. The prisoner now knew 
that it was their intention to pound him until he died, 
and he resisted with all the desperation of a doomed 
man. He fought and struggled savagely, crying bit- 
terly all the time, and striving to wrest a tomahawk 
from his enemies. Every effort was vain; he was 
beaten for upward of half an hour, and he finally 
sank to the ground, where, in a few minutes, he 
breathed his last. The Indians took his scalp, cut 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



4OI 



up his body, and stuck his head and quarters upon 
poles in the center of the village. 

Slover witnessed the fate of his unfortunate friend 
in deep silence. When he saw the head severed from 
the trunk and the body divided by the barbarous 
savages, a cold shudder ran through his frame, and 
he made an instinctive movement, as if meditating 
flight; but he checked himself, for he knew that he 
was in the heart of the Wyandot country, and that any 
attempt to escape would be attended with immense 
risks. He still hoped that the Indians, after hearing 
his defense, would spare him, as he had once been 
their brother. Upon what feeble grounds this forlorn 
hope was based, we shall now see. 

The next morning the savages led Slover's sur- 
viving companion to a neighboring town, for what 
purpose was not told. He was probably put to 
death, for he was never afterward heard of. Slover 
remained in the village. He was not kept long in 
suspense with regard to his fate, for a solemn coun- 
cil immediately convened, and he was summoned 
before it to give an account of his conduct. 

When several of the chiefs had spoken, accusing 
the captive of faithlessness, and favoring the adop- 
tion of vigorous measures, Slover was asked what 
he had to say by way of defense. He arose amid 
profound silence, and, with the utmost gravity and 
composure, proceeded to address the braves. He 
spoke the Indian tongue with fluency, and, as he 
knew several of the judges intimately, he was con- 
fident that his cause would have a perfectly impartial 



402 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

hearing. The warriors listened to him attentively. 
His harangue produced a marked impression, and 
the first day of his trial closed with every thing 
apparently in his favor. 

On the second day, to Slover's great concern, 
James Girty, the brother of the notorious renegade, 
arrived in the village. He was immediately called to 
the council-room, and asked to give his opinion in 
the case. In the most emphatic manner Girty pro- 
nounced against the prisoner. He favored execu- 
tion, and offered to conduct the prisoner to a 
neighboring village, where, he said, preparations 
had been made for burning him at the stake. 

Girty was violently abusive. His argument was 
impassioned, and the ground which he took was 
uncompromising in the extreme. Slover feared that 
his fate was sealed, but, still hopeful and resolute, 
he rose, and, with all the rough eloquence which 
he had at his command, replied. Many of the 
warriors favored the imposition of the death-sen- 
tence ; but the majority were undecided, and it was 
determined to wait for a few days before passing 
judgment. 

Finally a large council of the Shawnee, Delaware, 
Wyandot, Chippewa and Mingo nations was held 
in the village, and two messengers were sent to 
bring Slover before the assembled chiefs. On his 
first arrival in the town, Slover had been given in 
charge to an old squaw, who took him into her hut 
and treated him with the most considerate kindness. 
When the two warriors came to the cabin to bring 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



403 



Slover before the council, this old woman, fearing 
that no good was in store for him, quickly hid him 
under a bear-skin, and then told the emissaries that 
she had sent him out on an errand, but that he 
would be back presently. She inquired with great 
solicitude regarding the intentions of the chiefs. 
She was told that the probable sentence would be 
death. At this information she became greatly en- 
raged, seized a rifle, and said that she would shoot 
the first man who came to deprive her of her charge. 
The messengers departed, and the old squaw drew 
Slover from his hiding-place. 

An earnest conversation now followed between 
the woman and the unfortunate captive. She told 
him that he certainly would be doomed to die, and, 
saying that his only escape was in immediate flight, 
bade him disguise himself as an Indian and leave 
the village. This counsel Slover would by no means 
listen to, for he was apprehensive that his enemies, 
on discovering his absence, would tomahawk the old 
woman as being privy to his escape ; and he was too 
brave and generous to rescue himself at the expense 
of one so defenseless. She urged him to avail him- 
self of the opportunity; but he steadily refused, and 
remained in the cabin awaiting the messengers of 
death. 

Presently a number of loud halloos were heard, 
and in a few moments Slover saw through the cracks 
in the wall a large party of Indians, headed by 
James Girty, rushing toward the hut. On reaching 
the door, Girty savagely told the old woman, who 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



had gone out to meet him, to deliver up the 
prisoner. She commenced to cry in a piteous 
manner, but Girty did not stand on ceremony, and, 
with a rude oath, pushed her from him and entered. 
Slover was instantly seized and carried to the center 
of the village, where he was stripped stark naked 
and tarred from head to foot. His hands were then 
bound behind him so that it was almost impossible 
for him to move them, and he was borne off to a 
town several miles further on. All the inhabitants 
thronged to meet him, supposing that to them had 
fallen the rare good fortune of preparing and wit- 
nessing his torture. But Girty told them that the 
most that he could permit, was that they should 
amuse themselves with the prisoner for a short time. 
The gauntlet lines were accordingly formed, and 
the Indians devoted about an hour to clubbing and 
tormenting the wretched victim. 

At a small village about two miles from the place, 
where Slover was obliged to run the gauntlet, the 
party made a final halt. Here the prisoner's heart 
sunk within him when he saw that preparations had 
been made to burn him. A stout hickory pole had 
been sunk in the ground, and a quantity of fagots 
had been collected and piled in a heap. Girty turned 
to Slover and asked him if he knew what these 
preparations meant, telling him at the same time 
to cheer up, as there would be fine sport in the 
evening. y 

After giving a few orders, Girty seized the 
prisoner and rudely dragged him to the stake. The 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



405 



Indians gathered in a circle, and as Girty — assisted 
by two or three stalwart warriors — bound Slover's 
hands firmly behind him, and then lashed him 
securely to the stake, they set up a prolonged and 
unearthly yell, and commenced to perform their 
dances. 

The prisoner now resigned himself to fate, and, 
calm and resolute, watched the preparations which 
were being made, with a fortitude truly heroic. The 
fagots were carried and heaped around him as high 
as his hips, and the savages then commenced to tor- 
ment him with threats and blows. To inflame the 
passions of the men, an orator mounted a stand at 
the door of the council-room and commenced to 
address the assembly, exclaiming vehemently and 
gesticulating wildly as he did so. He wrought so 
powerfully upon the feelings of the multitude that 
they grew impatient of delay, and finally one of the 
squaws was directed to go and bring a brand from 
a fire, in order that the execution might take place 
forthwith. 

The flaming torch was procured, and a light was 
immediately applied to the heap of timber. A blaze 
at once sprang up; the fire was communicated to the 
whole of the pile, and before long the flames were 
circling around the unfortunate victim. 

During the afternoon the wind had been quite 
high, but there had been few clouds. At the critical 
moment, however, the sky suddenly became dark- 
ened, the wind subsided, and, to the dismay of the 
Indians and the inexpressible astonishment of Slover, 



406 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



a copious shower of rain fell. The blaze, which was 
mounting high and becoming severely hot, was im- 
mediately extinguished. The rain continued to fall, 
and soon came down in torrents, so that the Indians 
were forced to take shelter, and Slover was drenched 
from head to foot. 

In about two hours the rain ceased. Execution 
was, of course, out of the question that evening ; but 
the savages were determined not to lose their sport 
altogether, and accordingly surrounded the captive, 
and entertained themselves by yelling, performing 
their dances, and striking and kicking the victim 
until about eleven o'clock, when they withdrew to 
rest. Before leaving, however, they unbound Slover, 
and led him into a block-house, where they pin- 
ioned his arms tightly, and then fastened one end 
of a stout thong around his neck, tying the other to 
a beam. After binding him in this manner, they left 
him under a strong guard, and bade him good night, 
first exhorting him, however, to take a good sleep, as 
he would have to "eat fire in the morning." 

The guard, which had been set to watch over 
Slover, consisted of three burly Indians. Two of 
them were young fellows, who had been with the 
party which captured him. The third was an old 
and very shrewd savage, who evidently was deter- 
mined to keep on the watch during the whole of 
the night, for he told his companions to lie down 
and leave the prisoner to him. 

Slover was too anxious to sleep ; and the old man, 
seeing that he was wakeful, lighted his pipe and 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



407 



commenced to talk to him. He had a great deal to 
say in praise of the two Girtys. His admiration for 
Simon was without bounds. James, he said, was as 
true an Indian, and had as good a heart as his 
brother; but, he added, he was not so valuable a 
man on the war-path. " He say all the time dam, 
dam," said the old savage; " Simon say dam, too," 
he said, "but," he added emphatically, "Simon say 
dam — Simon act dam." When the Indian had ex- 
hausted the subject of the Girtys, he commenced to 
talk to Slover about the pleasure which he and his 
companions expected to have in witnessing the 
torture on the following day, and, as he was ex- 
ceedingly garrulous, he entertained his listener by 
a number of stories of the sufferings of prisoners 
whom he had seen burned at the stake. 

During this time, Slover had been revolving in his 
mind the chances which he had of making an escape. 
He cursed the talkative old Indian a thousand times 
in his heart, and anxiously waited for him to drop 
asleep. Finally he determined to feign extreme 
wearisomeness, and, at the most interesting portion 
of one of the old man's stories, rolled over on one 
side and commenced to snore. The Indian, not 
relishing this inattention in the prisoner, poked him 
with a stick, and told him to wake up. 

"Story mighty good," he said; "much fun." 

"Shut up, d n you," replied Slover in an exas- 
perated tone; "I am tired, and want to sleep." 

The Indian did not heed this emphatic remon- 
strance, and continued to talk. Slover turned on his 



408 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



side, and soon fell, to all seeming, into a profound 
sleep. At length the old man stopped talking, put 
out his pipe, yawned, and laid himself down by the 
fire. In a moment he arose, and, going to the pris- 
oner, carefully examined the fastenings of the cords 
and tightened the knots. Satisfied that every thing 
was secure, he then drew his blanket around him, 
placed himself on the ground as before, and was 
soon sound asleep. 

Slover now set about to free his wrists from the 
thongs which bound them. This was an undertaking 
of extreme difficulty, for they had been drawn so tight 
that they cut deep into his flesh; and not only could 
he not move his hands, but he could scarcely work 
his fingers. By a desperate effort, however, he suc- 
ceeded in slipping the cords forward, and finally found 
his hands at perfect liberty, although the skin was 
almost entirely rubbed off in the attempt. With 
trembling haste Slover next seized the leathern 
thong which was fastened around his neck, and 
endeavored to disengage it. It was of buffalo hide, 
well-seasoned, and was as thick as his thumb, and 
hard as iron. He could not loosen the knots, and to 
gnaw it in two was, on account of its thickness and 
hardness, impossible. While Slover was desperate- 
ly striving to free himself, the old Indian, disturbed 
probably by the loudness of his breathing — for the 
excitement under which he labored was so great 
that he drew his breath in short, thick pants — 
suddenly awoke. 

Slover immediately placed his hands behind his 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES 



409 



back, and, affecting restlessness, turned over so that 
he faced the Indian. The old savage arose, yawned 
heavily, poked the fire, gave a look at the prisoner, 
and then stretched himself on the ground. Slover 
thanked his good fortune, and again went to work 
with a will. He jerked the rope, which bound his 
neck, vigorously, and at length, to his great joy, it 
came untied. 

To make his way from the room and out of the 
village was now an easy task. Slover knew that he 
had not a moment to spare, for day was just break- 
ing, and in less than half an hour his absence would 
be discovered. He ran with all speed for a corn-field, 
intending to conceal himself. While on his way he 
came very near stumbling over a squaw, who was 
sleeping with two children on the ground ; but, 
happily, discovering them just in time, he ran on, 
soon passed the corn-field, and reached an orchard 
beyond. Fortune seemed to have taken him under 
her especial protection, for here he found a number of 
horses, and, quickly going up to one, he fastened a 
halter which he had made from the cord, which 
bound his arms, around its neck, mounted its back, 
and, urging it to its utmost speed, was soon flying 
across the country in the direction of home. 

The animal proved to possess great power and 
spirit, and, although but a young colt, bore its rider 
most handsomely, never once showing a disposition 
to stop. The sun was high in the heavens before 
Slover checked his speed, and then he stopped only 
to afford his horse time to breathe, preparatory to 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



plunging into the Scioto River which obstructed his 
path. The colt swam bravely and was nearly across, 
when he commenced to fail. Slover, keenly sensitive 
to every sound, thought that he heard a cry as of 
pursuers in his rear, and, nerved to desperation, he 
struck his noble animal savagely, and by a hard 
effort urged it up the bank. It was now ten o'clock 
in the morning, and Slover had gone a distance of 
not less than fifty miles. He dismounted and allowed 
his horse about five minutes' rest. The cry which he 
had heard was repeated, and, straining his eyes, 
Slover could distinguish, far behind, half a dozen 
horsemen moving across the plain from the direction 
in which he had come. He now knew that he was 
hotly pursued, and he sprang lightly upon his horse, 
and continued his mad flight. 

The frantic speed at which Slover galloped his 
animal was enough to wear out nerves and sinews 
of iron, and, as he advanced, the poor beast began 
to show signs of failing. At length, about three 
o'clock in the afternoon, after running a distance of 
more than seventy miles, the horse stumbled and 
fell headlong. Slover instantly sprang from its back 
and continued his flight on foot until dusk, when he 
halted for a moment. Far behind him he heard a 
prolonged halloo, and he reluctantly came to the 
conclusion that he was still pursued. Fortune again 
declared in his favor. It presently grew dark, and, 
as the moon did not rise until late, he knew that his 
pursuers would be obliged to halt until they could 
again discover his trail. He ran until ten o'clock, 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



411 



and then, utterly overcome with fatigue, he sank to 
the ground. He was seized with a violent fit, and 
lay for two hours quivering in every limb. His 
resolution was not, however, to be quelled, and as 
soon as the moon rose he sprang to his feet and 
rushed forward as if just starting out on a journey. 
He made all speed until morning, and then, chang- 
ing his course, he went more slowly, carefully cov- 
ering his trail a.s he did so. 

For two days longer Slover continued his weary 
journey. On the evening of the third day of his 
flight he reached the Muskingum River, which he 
swam at Old Comer's Town. His flesh, — he was 
entirely naked, — was blistered and peeled from head 
to toe, and he was nearly dead from exhaustion. 
Strange as it may seem, however, he suffered com- 
paratively little from hunger, and indeed had scarcely 
any inclination to eat. The only food which he tasted 
during his journey was a few raspberries and two 
crawfishes, which he caught in the Stillwater River 
and devoured raw. 

Finally, four days after his escape, Slover reached 
the Ohio River opposite Wheeling. He saw a man 
standing on an island in the middle of the stream, 
and, calling to him, he told him his name and the 
circumstances in which he was placed. The fellow 
soon came to his rescue and rowed him across, and 
Slover thus returned to his friends after an ex- 
perience which, for thrilling adventure, daring, and 
hardship, has rarely been paralleled. 



4 I2 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



The following narrative of the captivity and won- 
derful escape of the two Johnson boys, John and 
Henry, aged respectively thirteen and eleven years, 
is taken from Pritts's " Border Life:" 

They lived at a station on the west side of the 
Ohio River, near Indian Short Creek, and, being at 
some distance from the house, engaged in the sport- 
ive amusements of youth, they became fatigued, and 
seated themselves on an old log for the purpose of 
resting. They presently observed two men coming 
toward them, whom they believed to be white men 
from the station, until they approached so close as to 
leave no prospect of escape by flight, when, to their 
great grief, they saw that two Indians were beside 
them. They were made prisoners and taken about 
four miles, when, after partaking of some roasted 
meat and parched corn given them by their captors, 
they arranged for the night by being placed between 
the two Indians and each encircled in the arms of the 
one next him. 

Henry, the younger of the brothers, had grieved 
much at the idea of being carried off by the Indians, 
and during his short but sorrowful journey across the 
hill had wept immoderately. John had in vain en- 
deavored to comfort him with the hope that they 
should be enabled to elude the savages and return 
to the hearth of their parents and brethren. He re- 
fused to be comforted. The ugly red man, with his 
tomahawk and scalping-knife, which had often been 
called in to quiet the cries of his infancy, was now 
actually before him ; and every scene of torture and 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



413 



of torment which had been depicted by narration to 
his youthful eye was now present to his terrified im- 
agination, heightened by the thought that they were 
about to be re-enacted on himself. In anticipation of 
this horrid doom, for some time he wept in bitterness 
and affliction. But when the fire was kindled at night, 
the supper prepared and offered to him, all idea of 
his future fate was merged in their present kindness ; 
and Henry soon sank to sleep, though inclosed in 
horrid hug by savage arms. 

It was different with John. He felt the reality of 
their situation; he was alive to the anguish which he 
knew would agitate the bosom of his mother, and he 
thought over the means of allaying it so intensely that 
sleep was banished from his eyes. Finding the others 
all locked in deep repose, he disengaged himself from 
the embrace of the savage at his side and walked to 
the fire. To test the soundness of their sleep, he re- 
kindled the dying blaze and moved freely about it. 
All remained still and motionless, — no suppressed 
breathing betrayed a feigned repose. He gently 
twitched the sleeping Henry, and, whispering softly 
in his ear, bade him get up. Henry obeyed, and they 
both stood by the fire. 

"I think," said John, "we had better go home 
now." 

"Oh!" replied Henry, "they will follow and catch 
us." 

"Never fear that," rejoined John, "well kill them 
before we go." 

The idea was for some time opposed by Henry, 



414 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

but when he beheld the savages so soundly asleep, 
and listened to his brother's plan of executing his 
wish, he finally consented to act the part prescribed 
him. 

The only gun which the Indians had was resting 
against a tree, at the foot of which lay their toma- 
hawks. John placed it on a log, with the muzzle 
near to the head of one of the savages, and, leaving* 
Henry with his finger on the trigger, ready to pull 
on the signal being given, he repaired to his own sta- 
tion. Holding in his hand one of their tomahawks, 
he stood astride of the other Indian, and, as he raised 
his arm to deal death to the sleeping savage, Henry 
fired, and, shooting off the lower part of the Indian's 
jaw, called to his brother, "Lay on; for I've done for 
this one'' seized up the gun and ran off. The first 
blow of the tomahawk took effect on the back of the 
neck and was not fatal. The Indian attempted to 
spring up, but John repeated his strokes with such 
force and so quickly that he soon brought him again 
to the ground, and leaving him dead proceeded on 
after his brother. 

They presently came to a path which they recol- 
lected to have traveled the preceding evening, and, 
keeping along it, arrived at the station awhile before 
day. The inhabitants were, however, all up, and in 
much uneasiness for the fate of the boys; and when 
they came near, and heard a well-known voice ex- 
claim, in accents of deep distress, "Poor little fel- 
lows! they are either killed or taken prisoners'' John 
called aloud, "No, mother, we are here again." 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



415 



When the tale of their captivity and the means by 
which they had effected their deliverance was told, 
they did not obtain full credence. Piqued at the 
doubt expressed by some, John observed, "You had 
better go and see." 

"But can you again find the spot," said one? 

"Yes," replied he, "I hung up my hat at the turn- 
ing-out place, and can soon show you the spot." 

Accompanied by several of the men, John returned 
to the theater of his daring exploits, and the truth 
of his statement received ample confirmation. The 
savage who had been tomahawked was lying dead 
by the fire ; the other had crawled some distance, but 
was tracked by his blood until found, when it was 
agreed to leave him, "as he must die at any rate." 



The following account of the escape of four white 
youths is from the "Pioneers in the Settlement of 
America:" 

In 1785, a Colonel Pope, who lived near Louisville, 
employed a private teacher to instruct his own chil- 
dren and those of some neighbors, among whom 
were two sons of Colonel Linn, who had been killed 
several years before this date. 

One holiday in February the two Linns, with three 
other boys, went out on a hunting excursion; for, 
though none of them were above the age of thirteen 
or fourteen, they were accustomed to the use of fire- 
arms, and were somewhat skilled in hunting the 
smaller game. Ambitious to enjoy all the delights 



416 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



and freedoms of a hunter's life, they constructed a 
slight shelter, built a fire, and encamped for the 
night near some ponds which were frequented by 
swans and ducks. A slight snow during the night 
did not disturb their slumbers, and in the morning 
they were awake early, and eager to resume their 
sport; but, as they were setting out for the ponds, 
they found themselves surrounded by a party of 
Indians, who had been attracted by their camp-fire 
and lain near them all night. The elder Linn and 
one of his companions started to run ; but they were 
overtaken, and Linn, who was rather stout and 
clumsy, was called by the Indians "The Little Fat 
Bear," while the other, who was an agile and swift 
runner, was named "The Buck-Elk." 

The Indians soon moved away with their young 
captives, and, crossing the Ohio in canoes, pursued 
their journey toward Northern Indiana. The boys, 
knowing they must make the best of their ill-luck, 
and not being ill-treated, marched on without a mur- 
mur, and perhaps not altogether unpleasantly ex- 
cited by their adventure. Their patient endurance, 
and the interest which they manifested in the inci- 
dents of the journey, won the good-will of the In- 
dians, who promised themselves the satisfaction of 
making braves of these young heroes. Arriving at 
the village of their captors, they received, as usual, 
the taunts and abuse of the women and children. 
These they bore as long as they could; but when the 
Indian boys resorted to blows their Kentucky blood 
was aroused, and the younger Linn, being assailed 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



419 



by a boy larger than himself, gave him a left-handed 
blow which knocked him down, to the great delight 
of the older savages. A general attack by the young 
Indians followed; but the white boys were braver 
than their adversaries, and, standing together, they 
displayed such pluck against great odds that their 
captors interfered and protected them from further 
annoyance. 

The qualities thus displayed by the boys were such 
as to commend them to the savages, and they at once 
became favorites, and were adopted into the families 
of their captors. One of them fell to the lot of an 
Indian belonging to a distant town, whither he went 
with his master, and was never seen again by his 
comrades. The others remained in the same village ; 
and, as there was nothing else to do, with the readi- 
ness of youth to adapt itself to circumstances, they 
entered with alacrity into the sports of the Indians, 
and became apparently so well pleased with their 
free life that their captors ceased to be suspicious of 
their desire to escape, and they were allowed to go 
about at will: 

Although the boys entered freely into the sports 
of the Indian youth, and apparently were not dis- 
satisfied with their position, they were ever on the 
watch for an opportunity to escape. The spring and 
summer passed, however, without any chance to make, 
the attempt; but in the autumn the Indian braves set 
out in separate parties for their annual hunt, leaving 
only the old men and the women and children at 

home. With the increased possibility of escape, the 
25 



420 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



boys became more anxious than ever to return to 
their home ; but, as the days passed, and the desired 
opportunity did not occur, they became more des- 
perate, and at last took advantage of a chance which, 
at an earlier period, they would not have dared to try. 
They went out one day accompanied by an aged In- 
dian man and a squaw, and encamped at a distance 
from the village for the purpose of hunting and fish- 
ing. This seemed to them the last chance of escape, 
and they resolved to improve it. But a difficulty pre- 
sented itself at the outset: Should they attempt to 
run away and leave the old warrior and squaw, they 
would be sure to be pursued by all the motley crew 
of the village, and probably captured. After consul- 
tation, therefore, they determined that, in order to 
see their home and friends again, it was necessary 
to kill their Indian companions, and, watching their 
opportunity, they carried their resolution into effect. 
That young boys like these and the Johnsons could 
so deliberately resort to blood-shed may seem strange 
to those reared in the safety of civilized communities. 
But it must be remembered that they knew the In- 
dians as deadly enemies of their race, who did not 
hesitate to massacre helpless women and children of 
the whites, and who were then wearing as trophies 
the scalps of their kindred. The two Linns had lost 
their father by the hands of the savages ; and the 
atrocities and vindictive cruelty practiced by these 
enemies were familiar tales. When, reared among 
such associations and influences, their only hope of 
seeing their home again lay in the death of these 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



two beings of a race hated by all the pioneers, it is 
not strange that even their young hands should per- 
form the deadly deed. 

Taking their guns, they hastened away from their 
silenced foes and turned their steps eagerly toward 
their home, knowing that they must travel southward, 
and being already accustomed to trace their cpurse 
not only by the sun and moon but by the hunters' 
sylvan lore. For three weeks they traveled through 
the forest, often at night, lying concealed the greater 
part of the day when they suspected danger, living 
on nuts and berries and occasionally small game, and 
practicing the cunning which they had learned from 
hunters' stories and their experience with the Indians. 
At last they reached the Ohio, and, coming opposite 
Louisville, they fired their guns to attract attention; 
but the people there, supposing it might be a device 
of the Indians, did not venture to cross. The young 
fugitives, failing to obtain assistance, went several 
miles up the bank of the river in search of some 
canoe or other means of crossing. Finding none, 
with great labor they constructed a raft, on which 
three of them embarked ; while the elder Linn, who 
was an expert swimmer, took to the water and 
pushed the unwieldy craft before him, the other 
three assisting with poles as paddles. In this way 
they passed slowly across the river, at the same time 
borne more rapidly down the stream toward Louis- 
ville, and were discovered by the people there, who 
hastened to their assistance. It was none too soon ; 
for just then a band of Indians appeared on the 



422 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



opposite shore and commenced firing at them; and 
but for help they might again have been captured. 
Young Linn was nearly exhausted by his efforts and 
his long exposure in the chilly water, for it was then 
November, but the prompt care which he received 
soon restored him to his usual robust health. It is 
needless to say with what joy the young fugitives 
were welcomed back by their friends, who had long 
supposed that they had been murdered by the In- 
dians. Their comrade who had been separated from 
them never returned, and it was afterward ascer- 
tained that he grew to manhood among the Indians, 
married the sister of a noted chief, and became so 
attached to the life of a savage that he had no de- 
sire to return to civilized society. 



William Kennan, a young man of about eighteen 
years of age, attached to a corps of rangers which 
accompanied the unfortunate expedition of General 
Arthur St. Clair against the Indians of the North- 
west, in the fall of 1 79 1 , had a most miraculous es- 
cape. He was known by his companions in arms as 
a youth of extraordinary power and activity, and, 
during the march of the army to the fatal battle- 
ground, gave several proofs of his physical capacities 
which amazed the men and officers beyond measure. 

In order that timely warning might be given of 
the approach of the enemy in case of attack, the 
corps to which Kennan belonged was posted, the 
night before the battle, some distance in advance of 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



423 



the main body. Young Kennan was placed on guard 
a little after midnight, with instructions to keep a 
strict watch until morning. In the exercise of his 
duty as a sentinel, Kennan paced backward and for- 
ward over a beat twenty or thirty yards in length. 
He saw no sign of an enemy until about daybreak, 
when, just as he reached the farthest point of his 
beat, he discovered a party of about thirty Indians 
stealing cautiously toward him. Kennan immediately 
raised the alarm and beat a hasty retreat. His com- 
panions were on the alert, and advanced in regular 
order to confront the savages. Not doubting that 
the Indians were but a score or two in number, and 
that the corps would therefore be fully prepared to 
encounter them, Kennan did not wait for the arrival 
of his comrades, but suddenly wheeled, presented his 
rifle, fired at the foremost of the enemy, and then fell 
on his face in the tall grass. He commenced to re- 
load, thinking that his comrades would be up in a 
moment, and charge and rout the Indians ; but to his 
surprise and alarm, he suddenly heard a voice which 
he recognized as that of the captain of the rangers, 
cry in a loud warning tone: "Rim, Kennan, or you 
are a dead mail!" Rising on the instant, he discov- 
ered, to his dismay, that his friends had fled, and that, 
instead of a few Indians, an overwhelming mass were 
in furious pursuit. He had, however, very little time 
to make observations, for a number of warriors were 
immediately upon him. 

Heading for a ford in the creek which ran be- 
tween the rangers and the main body, Kennan used 



424 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



his utmost exertions to distance his pursuers. About 
a dozen fleet warriors threw away their guns and 
dashed after him, yelling at the height of their voices. 
Before he had gone far, Kennan discovered that his 
purpose of rejoining the army was likely to be foiled, 
for a band of savages that had followed the rangers, 
returning from the pursuit, quickly intercepted him 
and obliged him to alter his course. Bv the greatest 
effort, the fugitive soon succeeded in leaving all of 

o o 

his enemies, with the single exception of a brave and 
active young chief named Messhawa, behind him ; 
and a most animated contest now followed between 
pursuer and pursued. 

Kennan was about eighteen feet in the lead, and, 
in the circuitous route which he was obliged to take, 
he had a distance of nearlv four hundred yards to eo 
before he could again reach a fordable point of the 
creek. Both men used their greatest endeavors, but 
Kennan could not gain on his adversary, nor could 
Messhawa lessen the distance which intervened. 

As he ran, Kennan occasionally looked back to 
ascertain what progress his enemy was making. He 
saw him bending every muscle, and, what greatly 
heightened his anxiety, he perceived that he held his 
tomahawk aloft, preparing to throw it. The emer- 
gency was critical : and Kennan, knowing that he 
might at any moment be felled to the ground by a 
blow from the weapon, promptly resolved to turn and 
end the contest by a hand-to-hand encounter. 

He accordingly slackened his speed and felt for his 
tomahawk. His consternation and despair may be 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



425 



conceived when it is stated that he searched for his 
weapon in vain ; it had slipped from the sheath while 
he lay prostrate in the thick, rank grass. The young 
chief was now so close that he was ready to pounce 
upon his victim ; but Kennan, nerved by despair to 
renewed exertion, sprang forward with such swiftness 
that he immediately gained ground. A new danger, 
however, soon presented itself. By keeping his eye 
almost constantly on his enemy, he had neglected 
to watch the course which he was taking, and, before 
he had time to shape it aright, he found that he was 
approaching the high bank of the creek, near which 
lay directly in his path a large tree, covered with 
brush to the height of about ten feet. Messhawa, 
on seeing that his enemy could not possibly avoid 
rushing into the trap, uttered a cry of triumph and 
commenced to swing his tomahawk rapidly, while he 
redoubled his efforts. Kennan saw at a glance that 
he had but one alternative: he must either stop short 
and face the Indian, or he must, by a powerful effort, 
clear the obstacle. He was wholly defenseless, and, 
vain as the attempt seemed, he determined to save 
himself by leaping over the tree. He accordingly 
gathered all his energies, made a sudden rush for- 
ward, and, with one prodigious bound, sprang over 
limbs and brush, and landed safe on the other side. 
The success of his attempt astonished himself, and it 
amazed the Indian beyond all power of expression, 
for, on looking back, he saw Messhawa standing r till, 
looking after him in open-mouthed wonder. Kennan 
instantly jumped into the creek, made his way to the 



426 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



opposite bank, and rejoined the rangers, who re- 
ceived him with enthusiasm, and heard the story of 
his remarkable escape with expressions of amazement 
bordering on incredulity. 

One would suppose that Kennan, after this as- 
tonishing achievement, would have been content to 
pass the remainder of the day in the ordinary occu- 
pations of the soldier, without seeking new opportu- 
nities of placing his life in jeopardy. But his bravery, 
strength, and skill were destined to shine even more 
conspicuously. 

When Kennan came into the camp after his 
wonderful escape, he found every thing in a bustle of 
preparation. The Indian attack was expected every 
minute, and, as no one knew any thing of the 
strength, position, or intended movements of the 
enemy, even the coolest heads were vexed and puz- 
zled. In the midst of the confusion the Indians sud- 
denly rushed forward from all sides in overwhelming 
numbers, and the bloody and unfortunate battle of 
the 4th of November commenced. The fight con- 
tinued for three hours, when the whites, completely 
routed, fled in the most disorderly manner. 

In this sanguinary conflict the corps of the rangers 
had the responsible and difficult part of protecting 
the rear of Major Clarke's battalion, to which it was 
attached. Its leader was killed in the early part of 
the battle, and its numbers were greatly thinned dur- 
ing the progress of the fight. When victory finally 
decided in favor of the Indians, the survivors of the 
corps were left almost entirely to the mercy of the 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 427 

savages, as they were among the last to leave the 
field. 

Young Kennan, when the flight commenced, was, 
with a few brave companions, far in the rear. All 
the rest of the infantry had made off, and only a 
small body of horsemen was between the rangers and 
the pursuing enemy. Seeing his danger, Kennan 
quickly left the field, and ran off as fleetly as possible, 
hoping to rescue himself by the means which he had 
employed so successfully in the early morning. He 
had the good fortune to outstrip all his pursuers, 
and, passing horseman after horseman, who regarded 
him with looks of wonder, as he flew along, gained 
the front. 

He would readily have escaped all danger of death 
or capture, had he not, while pressing forward, sud- 
denly stopped to relieve an unfortunate friend and 
companion, who had been disabled by a ball which 
broke his thigh, and who, having in vain besought 
the horsemen, as they hurried past, to take him up, 
now called to Kennan in the most piercing tones to 
carry him from the field. Kennan caught the poor 
fellow in his arms, placed him on his back and, thus 
encumbered, continued his flight. For two or three 
hundred yards he kept his former pace ; but, before 
long his speed commenced to flag, and he gradually 
fell behind. The horsemen now overtook him, and, 
as they came up one by one, he entreated them to 
relieve him. They all refused, and Kennan, growing 
more and more exhausted, and seeing that the sav- 
ages were close on his heels, finally told his unhappy 



428 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



friend that he must leave him to his fate, The 
wounded man set up a cry of distress, and, instead 
of relaxing his hold around Kennan's neck, clung 
more firmly than ever, Kennan glanced back, and 
saw a troop of Indians, not more than twenty yards 
behind, bending every effort to overtake him. With- 
out a moment's hesitation, he took his knife and 
quickly drew it across the fingers of his companion, 
thus obliging him to release his grasp, and in an in- 
stant the unfortunate man rolled helpless on the 
ground, where, a few seconds later, he was toma- 
hawked by the relentless savages. Kennan was not 
slow in taking advantage of his opportunity, and he 
resumed his flight with so great activity that before 
long he was once more in the van. 

Before attempting to secure his own safety, Ken- 
nan gave still another instance of his undaunted 
bravery and generous consideration. While pur- 
suing his course, he perceived a young man sitting 
calmly on a log, evidently awaiting with all the un- 
concern of fortitude and despair, the approach of the 
Indians. Kennan, although he did not recognize in 
him an acquaintance, stopped, spoke to him, and told 
him to rise and accompany him. The young man 
replied by showing Kennan a wound which had bled 
so profusely that he was almost dead from exhaus- 
tion, and he said in a despairing tone that he was too 
weak to attempt to fly, and would stay where he was. 
Kennan made no answer, but quickly ran back to a 
place where he had seen a number of pack-horses 
grazing, and, laying hold of one by the bridle, he led 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 



429 



it to the spot where the stranger sat. The young 
man looked at him in amazement, and, with tears of 
gratitude, rose, and by the aid of his benefactor 
mounted the beast. The animal was but a sorry 
creature, and would not be forced beyond a slow trot ; 
but fortunately the Indians had by this time given up 
the pursuit to plunder the camp, and Kennan succeed- 
ed in leading his companion to a place of safety. The 
young man proved to be a Mr. Madison, afterward 
Governor Madison, of Kentucky. The acquaintance 
formed between him and his deliverer grew into 
a warm friendship, which continued uninterrupted 
through life. 

Mr. Kennan never entirely recovered from the 
immense exertions which he was compelled to make 
during this unfortunate expedition. He settled in 
Fleming County, and continued for many years a lead- 
ing member of the Baptist Church. He died in 1827. 



The following incident in frontier life occurred in 
Western Pennsylvania; 

About the middle of the summer of 1792, a gentle- 
man named Woods imprudently removed from the 
neighborhood of a station, and, for the benefit of his 
stock, settled on a lonely heath near Beargrass. One 
morning he left his family, consisting of a wife, a 
daughter not yet grown, and a lame negro man, and 
rode off to the nearest station, not expecting to re- 
turn until night. Mrs. Woods, while engaged in her 
dairy, was alarmed at seeing several Indians rapidly 



430 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



approaching the house. She screamed loudly in order 
to give the alarm, and ran with her utmost speed, in 
order to reach the house before them. In this she 
succeeded, but had not time to reach the door until 
the foremost Indian had forced his way into the 
house. As soon as he entered, the lame negro 
grappled him and attempted to throw him upon the 
floor, but was himself hurled to the ground with vio- 
lence, the Indian falling upon him. Mrs. Woods was 
too busily engaged in keeping the door closed against 
the party without to attend to the combatants, but 
the lame negro, holding the Indian in his arms, call- 
ed to the young girl to cut his head off with a very 
sharp ax which lay under the bed. She attempted 
to obey, but struck with so trembling a hand that 
the blow was ineffectual. Repeating her efforts 
under the direction of the negro, however, she at 
length wounded the Indian so badly that the negro 
was enabled to rise and complete the execution. 
Elated with success, he then called to his mistress, 
and told her to suffer another Indian to enter, and 
they would kill them all, one by one. While deliber- 
ating upon this proposal, however, a sharp firing was 
heard without, and the Indians quickly disappeared. 
A party of white men had seen them at a distance, 
and, having followed them cautiously, had now inter- 
posed at a very critical moment, and rescued a help- 
less family from almost certain destruction. 



Among the heroic band who guarded the little fort 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 43 I 

built by Daniel Boone at Boonesborough was a dash- 
ing and meritorious young officer named Smith, who 
had been a major in the militia of Virginia, and who, 
for his courage and military ability, stood high in the 
esteem and affections of the veteran pioneer. During 
the absence of Boone, Smith was frequently called to 
the command, and several stories are related of the 
great skill and energy which characterized the dis- 
charge of his military duties. 

On one occasion, during the captivity of Boone 
among the Indians at Chillicothe, Major Smith dis- 
played his daring and shrewdness in a most remark- 
able manner. A settler named Callaway had a very 
attractive daughter, who so far won the affections of 
the young officer that he proposed to her, and, as he 
was both brave and handsome, he was accepted. 

It happened that one day, in the spring of 1778, 
this young woman, in company with the two eldest 
daughters of Daniel Boone, left the fort and walked 
out for a stroll on the banks of the Kentucky River. 
Not thinking of danger, the girls rambled for some 
distance, and did not turn to retrace their steps until 
late in the afternoon. Returning down the river, they 
perceived a small canoe concealed in some bushes; 
and Miss Callaway, who was in a very gay and frolic- 
some mood, proposed that they should draw the bark 
from its nook, launch it, and cross the river, in order 
to visit some friends who lived on the opposite side. 
She added that this would be an excellent means of 
testing the devotion of her lover, who, if he really 
felt for her as he professed, would soon become 



432 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



alarmed at her prolonged absence, order out his men, 
and scour the whole country in search of her. 

The Boone girls were not disinclined to indulge Miss 
Callaway's romantic freak, the boat was launched, and 
in a moment the young women were drifting with the 
stream. They were totally ignorant of the means of 
governing a boat, and, therefore, instead of being car- 
ried to the point where they proposed to land, they 
were whirled hither and thither at the mercy of the 
current, which was quite rapid. Alarmed at the un- 
fortunate issue of the adventure, they commenced to 
scream for help. As the canoe came to the middle of 
the stream, it was whirled about swifter and swifter, 
and, growing more and more unsteady, soon com- 
menced to fill with water. Fortunately, however, it 
did not capsize, and it drifted across the river until it 
finally ran aground on a sand-bar, where its fair occu- 
pants were thrown violently into the shallow water. 

Alarm now turned to mirth, and the girls, after 
hastily arranging their dresses, commenced to wade 
to the shore, laughing merrily over their exciting 
adventure. To their unspeakable terror, however, 
just as they reached the bank, a swarthy Indian 
glided swiftly from a covert, and, running up to 
them with his tomahawk raised in the air, ordered 
them, in a peremptory manner, to give themselves 
up. He was followed in a moment by three others, 
and, as the girls were powerless to resist, they were 
instantly secured, and hurried forward on the march 
through the forest. 

The fair captives now began to regret that they 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 433 

had given their romantic disposition so full play. 
They were kept on a constant run by the savages, 
and repeatedly goaded by them with sharp sticks. 
As they marched over rugged, rocky ground, their 
shoes were soon worn from their feet, and the In- 
dians, unmindful of their sufferings, neglected to 
supply them with moccasins. First their dresses 
and then their skirts were torn from their bodies as 
they were hurried through the thick and thorny un- 
derbrush ; and their limbs and ankles finally streamed 
with blood. They were not, however, subjected to 
any personal indignities, although one of the sav- 
ages, captivated by the charms of Miss Callaway, 
soon commenced to address soothing words to that 
young woman, promising her that, if she obeyed his 
orders and bore the fatigues and sufferings of the 
journey with patience, he would recompense her by 
making her his squaw. 

In spite of the discouragements of the march, and 
the apprehensions which they felt for their future, 
the captives still retained sufficient presence of mind 
to enable them to lay plans of escape. They knew 
that the Indians would be pursued, and, in order to 
direct the pursuers in their course, they took occa- 
sion, when unperceived, to break and bend the twigs 
as they passed along. Miss Callaway, who, more 
than either of her companions, wished the adventure 
speedily at an end, availed herself of the tender 
feeling entertained for her by her savage admirer to 
retard the march ; for, two or three times she suc- 
ceeded in inducing him to permit her to rest, and, 



434 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



although he beat her and cursed her for her laziness, 
she affected to be much exhausted, and lagged be- 
hind. About ten o'clock at night the Indians made 
a halt, built a fire, and prepared to rest. Nothing 
occurred during the night to alarm the savages or 
to encourage the despairing prisoners ; and with the 
dawn of the next day the march was resumed. 

In the meantime the young women had been 
missed; and Smith, conjecturing that they had been 
captured, quickly organized a company to start in 
pursuit. The men scattered in all directions, search- 
ing for traces of the wanderers. Smith, with two 
trusty comrades, at once sought the river, and, ex- 
amining the soft mud and sand on the bank for foot- 
prints, soon discovered the impressions of small shoes, 
made, evidently, by the feet of women. Following 
the tracks, he came to the place where the canoe 
had been launched, and, as the marks of the boat 
remained distinctly impressed on the sand, he was 
not slow in concluding that he should have to search 
for further traces of the girls on the opposite side. 
He immediately plunged into the stream, and, fol- 
lowed by his two companions, swam across. A short 
distance below he again found the foot-prints of the 
three fair adventurers, with the deep impressions 
made by the four moccasined savages ; and, at once 
conjecturing that the girls had been led into captivity, 
he pressed forward with an ardor which soon placed 
him well on his way. 

As Smith was familiar with every part of the sur- 
rounding country he was enabled, after once ascer- 



REMARKABLE ESCAPES. 437 

taining the general direction taken by the savages, 
to follow the trail with unerring sagacity. Instead 
of traveling directly in the steps of the Indians, he 
often gained on them by avoiding the difficult paths 
which they had chosen, and steering courses ahead 
for points which he knew would lie in their line of 
march. Finally, toward evening of the second day, 
while following a small stream, he discovered the 
water newly thrown upon the rocks, and, ordering 
his men to proceed with the utmost caution, crept 
forward on hands and knees until he heard, imme- 
diately in front of him, the tread of soft footsteps. 
He now stood still and waited for the party to get 
far enough in the advance for him to follow without 
danger of discovery, and then resumed the pursuit. 

Shortly after dark he saw the sudden glimmer of 
a fire, and he concluded that the savages had halted 
with their prisoners for the night. Although burn- 
ing with impatience and anxiety, he prudently de- 
termined to delay the attack; for he knew that the 
Indians would be on the alert until later in the even- 
ing, and that, in all probability, they would disperse 
to hunt for game. He accordingly concealed him- 
self with his comrades. In about half an hour he 
heard the report of two rifles, close at hand, and, 
a few moments later, two savages, staggering under 
the weight of a deer, passed the place where he lay, 
and disappeared in the direction of the camp. 

When at last all was ripe for action, Smith emerged 
from his hiding-place, and, with noiseless steps, crept 
toward the fire. Arriving at the place, he discovered 



438 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



the girls sitting on the ground with their four captors. 
Whispering his instructions to his companions, he 
fired, and one of the Indians fell dead. He then 
rushed forward to attack the other three, who, see- 
ing that he was alone, at once fell into the trap that 
he had set, and, instead of flying, sprang to their feet 
and warily advanced to close around him. They thus 
presented the whole of their bodies to the aim of 
Smith's companions, who quickly fired, both with 
fatal effect. Smith then closed with the fourth sav- 
age, and, after a brief struggle, overpowered him 
and laid him lifeless on the ground. The three 
girls, thus happily rescued, were not slow in giving 
expression to their gratitude ; and Smith returned to 
the garrison, where, as we are told, "his gallantry 
was repaid by the sweetest of all rewards." 



INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 



THAT the Indian character was not at all times 
irreclaimably bad, but that humanity often pre- 
vailed over barbarism, and disinterested generosity 
over vindictive cruelty, is a fact whose truth has 
been too frequently attested to bear serious doubt. 
The following story of the renowned chief Logan, 
who is universally allowed to have been the highest 
type of the North American Indian, and who, ac- 
cording to the testimony of all who had the good 
fortune to encounter him, combined many of the 
essentials of true greatness, is from the pen of Rev. 
John A. McClung, one of the most reliable and 
entertaining of Western historical and biographical 
writers : 

While hovering with his followers around the 
skirts of a thick settlement, Logan suddenly came 
in view of a small field, recently cleared, in which 
three men were pulling flax. Causing the greater 
part of his men to remain where they were, Logan, 
together with two others, crept up within long shot 
of the white men and fired. One man fell dead ; the 
remaining two attempted to escape. The elder of 
the fugitives (Hellew) was quickly overtaken and 
made prisoner by Logan's associates ; while Logan 



* 



44° THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

himself, having thrown down his rifle, pressed for- 
ward alone in pursuit of the younger of the white 
men, whose name was Robinson. The contest was 
keen for several hundred yards, but Robinson, un- 
luckily looking around in order to have a view of 
his pursuer, ran against a tree with such violence as 
completely to stun him, and render him insensible 
for several minutes. 

Upon recovering, he found himself bound and 
lying upon his back, while Logan sat by his side, 
with unmoved gravity, awaiting his recovery. He 
was then compelled to accompany them in their 
further attempts upon the settlements ; and in the 
course of a few days was marched off, with great 
rapidity, for their villages in Ohio. During the 
march Logan remained silent and melancholy. The 
prisoners, however, were treated kindly, until they 
arrived at an Indian village upon the Muskingum. 
When within a mile of the town, Logan became 
more animated, and uttered the ' 4 scalp halloo" sev- 
eral times, in the most terrible tones. The never- 
failing scene of insult and torture then began. 
Crowds flocked out to meet them, and a line was 
formed for the gauntlet. 

Logan took no share in the cruel game, but did 
not attempt to repress it. He, however, gave Rob- 
inson, whom he regarded as his own prisoner, some 
directions as to the best means of reaching the 
council-house in safety, and displayed some anxiety 
for his safe arrival ; while poor Hellew was left in 
total ignorance, and permitted to struggle forward 



INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 44 1 

as he best could. Robinson, under the patronage 
of Logan, escaped with a few slight bruises ; but 
Hellew, not knowing where to run, was dreadfully 
mangled, and would probably have been killed upon 
the spot had not Robinson (not without great risk on 
his own part) seized him by the hand and dragged 
him into the council-house. 

On the following morning a council was called, 
in order to determine their fate, in which Logan 
held a conspicuous superiority over all who were 
assembled. Hellew's destiny came first under discus- 
sion, and was quickly decided by an almost unani- 
mous vote of adoption. Robinson's was most difficult 
to determine. A majority of the council (partly in- 
fluenced by a natural thirst for vengeance upon at 
least one object, partly, perhaps, by a lurking jeal- 
ousy of the imposing superiority of Logan's char- 
acter) were obstinately bent upon putting him to 
death. Logan spoke for nearly an hour upon the 
question ; and, if Robinson is to be believed, with 
an energy, copiousness, and dignity which would 
not have disgraced Henry himself. He appeared 
at no loss for either words or ideas ; his tones 
were deep and musical, and were heard by the as- 
sembly with the silence of death. All, however, was 
vain. Robinson was condemned, and, within an hour 
afterward, was fastened to the stake. Logan stood 
apart from the crowd with his arms folded, and his 
eyes fixed upon the scene with an air of stern dis- 
pleasure. 

When the fire was about to be applied, he sud- 



442 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



denly strode into the circle, pushing aside those who 
stood in the way, and, advancing straight up to the 
stake, cut the cords with his tomahawk, and, taking 
the prisoner by the hand, led him, with a determined 
air, to his own wigwam. ' The action was so totally 
unexpected, and the air of the chief so determined, 
that he had reached the door of his wigwam before 
any one ventured to interfere. Much dissatisfaction 
was then expressed, and threatening symptoms of 
a tumult appeared; but so deeply rooted was his 
authority, that in a few hours all was quiet, and 
Robinson, without opposition, was permitted to en- 
ter an Indian family. He remained with Logan until 
the treaty of Fort Pitt, in the autumn of the ensu- 
ing year, when he returned to Virginia. He ever 
retained the most unbounded admiration for Logan, 
and repeatedly declared that his countenance, when 
speaking, was the most striking, varied, and impress- 
ive that he ever beheld. And when it is recollected 
that he had often heard Lee and Henry, in all their 
glory, the compliment must be regarded as a very 
high one. 

Another instance of savage generosity is related 
by the same writer. A party of Indians had taken 
two or three white men prisoners. One of the cap- 
tives, named Johnston, was very handsomely dressed 
in a broadcloth surtout, red vest, fine ruffled shirt, 
and a pair of new boots. 

"The Indians began to eye him attentively, and at 
length one of them, whose name he afterward learned 



INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 



443 



was Chickatommo, a Shawnee chief, came up to him 
and gave the skirt of his coat two or three hard pulls, 
accompanied by several gestures which were not to 
be mistaken. Johnston instantly stripped off his coat 
and very politely handed it to him. His red waist- 
coat was now exposed to full view, and attracted great 
attention. Chickatommo instantly exclaimed, ' Hugh ! 
you big cappatain ! ' Johnston hastily assured him that 
he was mistaken ; that he was no officer, nor had any 
connection with military affairs whatever. The Indian 
then drew himself up, pointed with his finger to his 
breast, and exclaimed, ' Me cappatain ! all dese ' — 
pointing to his men — 1 my sogers ! ' The red waist- 
coat accompanied the surtout, and Johnston quickly 
stood shivering in his shirt and pantaloons. 

"An old Indian then came up to him, and, placing 
one hand upon his own shirt (a greasy, filthy garment, 
which had not, probably, been washed for six months), 
and the other upon Johnston's ruffles, cried out in En- 
glish, ' Swap ! swap ! ' at the same time giving the 
ruffles a gentle pull with his dirty ringers. Johnston, 
conquering his disgust at the proposal, was about to 
comply, and had drawn his shirt over his head, when 
it was violently pulled back by another Indian, whose 
name he afterward learned was Tom Lewis. His 
new ally then reproached the other Indian severely 
for wishing to take the shirt from a prisoner's back in 
such cold weather, and instantly afterward threw his 
own blanket over Johnston's shoulders. The action 
was accompanied by a look so full of compassion and 
kindness, that Johnston, who had expected far differ- 



444 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

ent treatment, was perfectly astonished. He now 
saw that native kindness of heart and generosity of 
feeling was by no means rare, even among savages." 



A most remarkable and affecting story, illustrative 
of the nobler traits in the savage character, is told by 
Mrs. Kinzie in "Wau Bun. The Early Day in the 
North-west." It is thus related by the author of 
''Pioneers in the Settlement of America:" 

In 1779 Mr. Lytle, an emigrant from Eastern Penn- 
sylvania, was living with his family, composed of his 
wife and children, on the banks of Plum River, a 
tributary of the Alleghany, some miles from Fort 
Pitt. They were occasionally visited by some of the 
friendly Delawares ; but for some time there had 
been no incursion of hostile Indians in that region, 
and the settlers had become less fearful of such at- 
tacks, and consequently less cautious. One after- 
noon, in the autumn of the year above named, while 
Mr. Lytle was assisting a neighbor at a house-raising 
some miles away, his two eldest children, a girl of 
nine and a boy two years younger, while playing in 
a little dell near their dwelling were taken prisoners 
by some hostile savages, who stealthily approached 
them from behind, and seized them as their attention 
was attracted in another direction. Terrified into 
silence by the threatening signs of the Indians, they 
were hurried away ; but grief at being torn from their 
home and parents, and dread of the cruelties prac- 
ticed on their captives by the savages, with the tales 



INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 445 



of which their ears were familiar, exceeded their ter- 
ror, and they could not restrain their tears and sobs. 
Their distress touched the heart of the chief of the 
party, a man of mild aspect for an Indian, who 
endeavored to soothe them, and, when the savages 
encamped for the night, prepared a couch of long 
grass, and gave them a portion of his own meat and 
parched corn. 

Before the party lay down to sleep, another band 
of Indians arrived, bringing with them the children's 
mother with her infant three months old. What had 
become of the other two children, who had also been 
at play near the house, none of the captives knew, 
and the mother could only hope that they had es- 
caped, while she suppressed her own grief to com- 
fort the little prisoners. 

In the morning the Indians resumed their march, 
and then was repeated the old story of savage atroc- 
ity toward helpless infants. One of the party offer- 
ed to relieve the mother by carrying her infant, and, 
unsuspicious of treachery, she gratefully accepted the 
offer. The Indian lingered behind, and, after a time, 
re-appeared without the child, whom the mother 
never saw again. She then knew too well what had 
been its probable fate ; but she dared not question or 
murmur, but, with a stricken heart and silent prayers, 
traveled on with her surviving children. The chief 
continued to treat the captives with kindness; and 
when, after a weary journey for many days the party 
arrived at their village, he conducted them to the 
cabin of his mother, the widow of a great chief of the 



446 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



tribe, and, commending them all to her care, pre- 
sented to her the little girl, whom he had from the 
first regarded with great tenderness, saying he had 
brought her to be his sister, and to supply the place 
of a brother who had been killed by the Delawares. 
Thus was the little girl adopted into the family of her 
captor; and while Mrs. Lytle and her boy were held 
for ransom, she was to remain as his sister, and be 
regarded as the daughter of a great chief. 

When Mr. Lytle returned from the house-raising 
in the evening, he found his house silent and his 
family gone. It was but too evident that the Indians 
had been there ; and whether his wife and children 
had been murdered or carried away was a matter of 
agonizing doubt. With the aid of his neighbors — and 
none were very near — he began a search, but found 
no trace of his lost ones, and could only hope that 
they were still alive and held as captives. In the 
morning he started for Fort Pitt to obtain aid from 
the commandant in pursuing the marauders. On the 
way, as he passed, he descried his two youngest 
children on a bank by the wayside. Grateful for the 
safety of these little ones, he eagerly questioned 
them as to the fate of their mother and the other 
children; but they could give no information, except 
to confirm the supposition that their home had been 
visited by Indians. The story of their escape was 
soon told. 

They were playing in a field near the house, when 
they saw the Indians, who probably did not observe 
them, and in alarm they crept into an adjoining 



INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 447 



clearing which was overgrown with blackberry-bushes, 
where they hid themselves for a long time. They 
then traversed this thicket of briers with great suffer- 
ing to their limbs and feet, away from the house 
where they knew the danger lay. Fearing that they 
would be taken, and impressed by the familiar tales 
of Indian cruelties, the elder of the two — a little boy 
of six years — proposed to his sister, two years younger, 
that he should kill her, as he could do it ".so much 
easier" than the Indians; and, noth withstanding her 
sobs, for a time persisted that he must do it to save 
her from suffering. This idea, however, passed away 
without an attempt to put it into action ; and travel- 
ing on, not knowing where they were, they at last 
followed some cattle to the house near which they 
were found. There was no one there to welcome 
them, and they crept under some rubbish at the back 
of the house, where, weary with their long toil, they 
slept. They had come forth from their hiding-place, 
but were uncertain which way to turn their steps, 
when they were discovered by their father. 

With a detachment of soldiers from Fort Pitt Mr. 
Lytle proceeded in search of the other members of 
his family, and having reason to suspect the Senecas, 
he went to one of their villages, where he found his 
wife and two eldest children. He met with little diffi- 
culty in ransoming his wife and the little boy; but 
neither promises of liberal presents nor entreaties 
could obtain the release of the little girl, who was the 
adopted child of the tribe. Finding all their efforts 
in vain, with sad hearts the parents were obliged to 



« 



44 8 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



depart with their one child, leaving their first-born in 
the hands of the savages. Their grief was partially 
relieved, however, by the evident kindness with which 
she was treated, and they could only hope that a 
future effort might be more successful. 

Having placed his family in safety at Fort Pitt, 
Mr. Lytle next sought the aid of Colonel Johnson, 
the British agent at Niagara, who had great influence 
with the savages. Colonel Johnson was a man of 
benevolent disposition, and, having heard the story, 
he went himself to the Indian village to procure the 
little girl's release. But the chief was inexorable; 
no offer of guns and horses could induce him to part 
with " his sister." 

The little captive, who had inspired so much affec- 
tion in the savage chief, continued to be treated with 
great kindness by him and the "old queen," his 
mother. She was supplied with their choicest food, 
adorned with their brightest ornaments, and rested 
on their softest couch of skins. This kindness won 
her from her home-sickness, and secured from her 
affectionate heart a return of love, and she became 
strongly attached to the chief, whom she learned to 
call her brother. She was treated with like consider- 
ation by the other members of the tribe, with one 
exception ; the wife of the chief regarded her with a 
bitter and unreasonable jealousy, and lost no oppor- 
tunity to manifest her hatred. She would have re- 
moved the object of her jealousy by violence, had 
she dared, and she watched with native treachery 
for a chance to use a more subtile method of re- 



INSTANCES OF INDIAN GENEROSITY. 449 



venge. Such an opportunity was offered by the 
sickness of the young captive with an attack of fever 
and ague. The treacherous squaw, changing her 
demeanor, became very kind in her attentions to the 
sick child ; and one day, during the absence of the old 
queen, she brought a bowl containing a drink which 
she offered the patient, and urged her to swallow it, 
saying it would cure the disease. But a young In- 
dian, who had seen the malignant squaw digging 
poisonous herbs in the morning, made signals through 
a crevice of the cabin which put the little girl on her 
guard, and she bade the woman to set it down for 
her to drink when she came out of the fever turn 
which was then upon her. When the woman at last 
retired, the young savage told the story, and the 
bowl, being delivered to the old queen, was found to 
contain a decoction of the most poisonous herbs 
known to Indian pharmacy. The other Indians were 
greatly enraged at this treacherous attempt on the 
life of their young favorite, and the would-be mur- 
deress was banished from her husband's lodge, and 
condemned to hoe corn in the farthest corner of the 
plantation. 

Four years passed, and the little captive had be- 
come contented with her savage life, and happy in 
the unusual kindness and love of the chief and his 
mother, while her parents were ever longing for the 
return of their lost one. After the treaty of peace 
between Great Britain and the United States, Mr. 
Lytle determined to make another effort to recover 
his daughter, and went with his wife to Niagara, that, 



1 



45 O THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

with the aid of Colonel Johnson, he might spare 
neither time nor labor to rescue her. Colonel John- 
son readily lent his assistance, and went to the 
Seneca village for the purpose of negotiating for the 
release of the young captive. It was the time of 
" the feast of green-corn." The Indians were in peace- 
ful and pleasant mood, and Colonel Johnson, with 
great tact and earnestness, unfolded his errand. But 
the chief was unwilling to listen to the proposal to 
give up the "sister" who was so dear to him, and 
who was so attached to him. When, however, the 
kind-hearted aeent told him of the mother's love 
which had brought her so many miles that she might 
at least once more see her child, he relented, and 
promised to bring the captive to the great council 
which was soon to be held at Niagara, that the 
mother might look upon her; but at the same time 
he stipulated that no attempt should be made to take 
her away from him. 

Cheered by this promise, that they should once 
more see their beloved child, but scarcely hoping 
that they would be able to retain her, the parents 
anxiously awaited the assembling of the grand coun- 
cil. On the appointed day the ladies of the garrison, 
who had become deeply interested in the affair, ac- 
companied Mrs. Lytle to the banks of the river to 
watch the arrival of the various bands of Indians as 
they reached the opposite shore, and were ferried 
across on their way to the council. At last they saw 
a mounted party arrive, with the leader of which rode 
a child, who, though dressed in the Indian fashion, 





RETURN OF THE LITTLE CAPTIVE. 



INSTANCES 



OF 



INDIAN GENEROSITY. 



453 



and ornamented with strings of wampum about her 
neck, was recognized as the little captive. Declining 
the offer to have his horses ferried across the river, 
the chief entered a boat with his young companion, 
whom he evidently treated with great tenderness, and 
was rowed across. Having landed, they advanced 
toward the group of ladies and officers who were 
anxiously awaiting them, the little girl clinging to 
the hand of her protector till she recognized her 
mother; then, with a cry of delight, she ran forward 
and threw herself into the arms of the one whose 
early love she had never forgotten, and who, in her 
deep emotion, had fallen on 'her knees in front of the 
group. The scene was deeply affecting to the by- 
standers ; and the chief, gazing a few moments at 
this display of mutual affection, with a noble gener- 
osity, unusual in an Indian, said: "The mother shall 
have her child. I will go back alone." He immedi- 
ately returned to the boat, regardless of all invita- 
tions to attend the council ; and, having crossed to the 
opposite shore, the whole party was seen to mount 
and ride away into the woods. 

The little captive was thus restored to her parents, 
and the associations of early years were soon revived. 
She never saw her Indian brother again. Her father, 
fearing that the chief might repent of his generosity, 
and attempt to recover his protege, went West, and 
settled at Detroit. Among the many cruel deeds of 
the Indians, natural to their savage state, and often 
provoked by their wrongs, the noble conduct of this 
chief may well be recorded. 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



A FEW years after the close of the Revolution, a 
man named John Taylor removed with his wife 
from Virginia to the western part of Pennsylvania, 
and settled in a lonely part of the woods, on the 
Alleghany River. Taylor was a lawyer by profes- 
sion, and, in many respects, was regarded as a man 
of marked ability. His character was, however, very 
eccentric, and his neighbors looked upon him as a 
man who, though their undoubted superior in one 
sense, lacked many of the essentials of sound reason. 

Several months after his emigration to Pennsylva- 
nia, Taylor, whether from conjugal infelicity, or from 
one of the mad impulses to which he was subject, is 
not known, suddenly disappeared. He left nothing 
to indicate where he had gone, or what he intended 
to do; and his wife, whom, fortunately, he had left 
well-provided with every necessary means of support, 
gave him up as lost. 

Mrs. Taylor, after her husband's departure, con- 
tinued to live in her * former home. Although she 
had no near neighbors, she felt very little concern 
for her safety, for no hostile Indians had been seen 
in the vicinity for many months ; and, as she was in- 
offensive, and had no valuable worldly possessions, 
she persuaded herself that, even should an enemy 

(454) 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



455 



suddenly appear, she would be spared all annoy- 
ance. As time passed, her confidence in her own 
perfect security strengthened ; for, far from being 
molested in her dwelling, she gained, by her amia- 
ble ways and judicious charity, the good-will, and 
indeed the affection, of all the Indians whom curi- 
osity or friendly motives drew to the settlements. 

One cold evening in December, three Indians 
knocked at Mrs. Taylor's door, and, in reply to 
her inquiry as to who they were, and what they 
wanted, said that they were friends, and desired a 
shelter for the night. Mrs. Taylor recognized the 
voice of one of them as that of a peaceable and 
well-disposed savage, who had often visited her and 
brought her presents of game and corn; and she 
accordingly opened the door without hesitation, and 
told them to walk in. The Indians stepped into 
the room, placed their rifles in a corner, drew off 
their blankets, sat down by the fire, and commenced 
to talk in a friendly and sociable manner. 

Mrs. Taylor added to her amiability and gener- 
osity of character a great deal of native shrewd- 
ness ; and, after listening for awhile to the conver- 
sation of her visitors, she became assured that their 
professions were perfectly sincere, and that, if they 
had any secret hostile intentions, their designs did 
not concern her. She accordingly permitted them 
to sit and talk, gave them some supper, and finally 
told them that they were welcome to stay, provided 
they would lie down by the fire, keep decently quiet, 

and leave early the next morning. 
27 



45^ 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



The Indians assured their hostess that her wishes 
should be respected, and, when the time to retire 
arrived, wrapped their blankets around them, and 
stretched themselves on the hearth. Mrs. Taylor 
then went to bed, but for a time was unable to 
sleep, since, in spite of her confidence in the good 
faith of her visitors, she still felt some anxiety. In 
a few moments the Indians were fast asleep, but 
Mrs. Taylor still listened anxiously. Their slum- 
ber evidently was not feigned, for they lay perfectly 
motionless, and their breathing was measured and 
natural. Casting aside all doubt, the lady finally 
composed herself to rest, satisfied that her guests 
were wholly innocent of any design to rudely dis- 
turb her slumbers. 

About the middle of the night Mrs. Taylor, whose 
sleep was very light, was aroused by a low, scraping 
sound, as of some one shuffling over the floor on 
hands and knees. The noise came, as she thought, 
directly from under her bed. She raised herself 
quickly and looked at the Indians. 

By the fitful light of the fire she saw that the three 
savages lay in the same careless, sprawling position, 
and she judged that they were still sleeping soundly. 
Their breathing was as heavy and their snores were 
as regular as before. Evidently they had not stirred. 
She spoke to them in a sharp, peremptory tone, but 
they did not move; and, thinking that she must have 
been deceived, she again drew the covering over her, 
closed her eyes, and made an effort to sleep. 

Reflecting on the strange occurrence, Mrs. Taylor 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



457 



became convinced that the Indians, although appar- 
ently innocent, were bent on taking her life, for in 
no other way could she explain the mystery. Deter- 
mined to thwart their purpose, she rose from her bed 
and went to the corner where the rifles had been 
placed, and, taking two of them, she opened the door, 
walked to an outhouse, and concealed them. Return- 
ing quickly, she barred the door, seized the third 
rifle, and, after a glance at the savages, who still lay 
in deep sleep, went again to bed, taking the gun 
with her. 

For nearly three-quarters of an hour Mrs. Taylor 
lay perfectly quiet, feigning sleep, though, in reality, 
listening with deep attention. No suspicious sound 
or movement was made, and finally, weariness pre- 
vailing over anxiety, she relaxed her hold on the rifle, 
and fell asleep. 

She had lain in a troubled rest for about half an 
hour, when the peculiar noise which had broken her 
slumber before again aroused her. This time it was 
unmistakable, proceeding from under the bed, and 
was made, as she could not doubt, by a man creep- 
ing over the floor. She seized her rifle convulsively., 
cocked it, and lay motionless, prepared to give the 
intruder a warm reception. 

The click of the rifle evidently alarmed the fellow, 
for the noise instantly ceased. Not daring to look 
under the bed, and still determined to fathom the 
mystery, Mrs. Taylor addressed the Indians in a 
loud, commanding voice, and, as they at first did 
not stir, repeated the call in a still more emphatic 



458 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



manner. One of the fellows awoke and asked her 
what she wanted. Mrs. Taylor told him that one of 
his companions was, or had been, under her bed, 
and asked him, in a reproachful manner, why they 
had broken faith and disturbed her in her sleep, 
when they had promised that they would lie per- 
fectly still. The Indian replied by protesting his 
innocence, and, awakening his two companions, who 
still lay beside him, told them what she had said. 
Each savage declared, in the most positive manner, 
that he had not moved from the spot during the 
night, and, to convince her of the truth of their 
assertion, they all arose and requested her to count 
them. 

Although the room was too dark for her to see 
their faces, Mrs. Taylor could plainly distinguish 
that the three Indians who stood before her were 
the same ones whom she had admitted in the even- 
ing, and she told them that she was satisfied. She 
still insisted, however, that some one was under her 
bed, and desired the Indians to look and see who 
it was. They complied, and proceeded to make the 
search. 

In a moment one of the savages uttered a loud 
exclamation and drew back, apparently in great 
fear. He called to his companions to take care, 
as the enemy had a butcher-knife a foot long, and 
had made a lunge at him with it, cutting him dan- 
gerously in the right wrist. Seeing that the con- 
cealed foe was prepared to defend himself, the other 
Indians went to work more cautiously, and finally, 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



459 



after a lively scuffle, succeeded in dragging him from 
his hiding-place. 

In order to get a better look at the intruder, while 
two of the savages held him, the third threw a quan- 
tity of wood on the fire. A bright blaze quickly 
sprang up, and Mrs. Taylor saw by its light that the 
marauder was a burly, villainous-looking negro, who, 
supposing that summary punishment was about to be 
inflicted on him, stood trembling with fear. 

The Indians had no sooner taken a look at their 
prisoner than they quickly released their hold of him, 
uttering, as they did so, an exclamation of astonish- 
ment and terror. Mrs. Taylor now witnessed a scene 
which gave her as much amusement as surprise. 

The negro commenced to cry and moan in a most 
piteous manner. He declared that he meant no 
harm; that he had merely come in to take shelter 
from the cold, and that he would instantly go away, 
and never trouble either Mrs. Taylor or the Indians 
again. He was only a poor, ignorant nigger, he 
said; he would do no harm, and he hoped to die 
if he ever showed his face in Mrs. Taylor's house 
afterward. 

While the negro was making these piteous decla- 
rations, the three Indians stood in a corner, casting 
fearful glances at him, and talking earnestly among 
themselves. There was evidently something in his 
appearance which caused them to regard him with 
superstitious dread. Mrs. Taylor heard them repeat 
the words "black devil" and "dam black rascal" two 
or three times. She concluded, from their mysterious 



460 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



conduct, that they had never before seen a man of 
his color, and consequently that they supposed him 
to be the evil spirit of whom they had so often heard 
from the whites. 

After awhile, as the negro still continued to moan 
and beg for mercy, the Indians grew bolder, and one 
of them, first obtaining the consent of his compan- 
ions, advanced toward him on tip-toe. The negro, 
holding his hands before his face, shrank to one end 
of^ the room, and the Indian, with the greatest wari- 
ness, approached him. He suddenly darted forward, 
rubbed his fingers quickly over the negro's hand, 
and then as suddenly retreated to the fire, where he 
was joined by his companions, who at once inspected 
his fingers, one by one, to see whether the contact 
with the skin of the black man had produced an im- 
pression. The examination was satisfactory, and they 
nodded their heads emphatically. Another consulta- 
tion followed; a plan of action was quickly deter- 
mined upon, and one of the Indians, coming up to 
Mrs. Taylor, leaned over her and whispered: 

''Black man; dam devil; ugh! Injun man killum." 

He then made a rush at the negro, and, before the 
latter could offer any defense, gave him a furious kick 
in the belly. The negro doubled up and rolled on the 
floor, bellowing with pain and fright. " Ugh ! dam ras- 
cal," exclaimed the Indian, and he gave him another 
well-directed kick. His companions, seeing the suc- 
cess of his attack, soon came up and kicked and beat 
the poor fellow for several minutes. Finally, one of 
them suggested that they should put an end to the 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



461 



black rascal ; and, as this was agreed to, they fastened 
a rope around his neck, — for they did not dare to 
touch him, — raised him to his feet, and dragged him 
into the yard, where they forced him to lie down; 
and then, taking a sharp axe, quickly severed his 
head from. his body. 

Mrs. Taylor, who, before the commission of this 
bloody act, had pleaded in vain for the life of the 
unfortunate man, now reproached the Indians for 
their cruelty, and told them that they would be an- 
swerable to the law as murderers. But they were too 
highly elated over their success in killing the negro, 
whom they firmly believed to have been the devil, to 
pay much attention ; and, in spite of the remonstrances 
of Mrs. Taylor, who urged them to lie down, they 
passed the remainder of the night in singing and 
laughing, and bragging to her over their achieve- 
ment, of which they were excessively proud. 

The next morning the Indians, after thanking Mrs. 
Taylor for her hospitality, who, in her turn, could not 
refrain from expressing her gratitude to them for 
preserving her from her murderous enemy, went on 
their way. Entirely ignorant of the fact that the law 
would take cognizance of their deed, and in all proba- 
bility punish them summarily for it, they told every 
one, whom they met, that they had killed the devil. 
The consequence was that they were soon arrested 
for the crime, thrown into prison, and, at the next 
session of the court, summoned to appear on the 
charge of murder. 

The strangest part of the story remains to be told. 



462 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



The news of this remarkable affair spread far and 
wide, and, on the day of the trial, men came from a 
distance to listen to the evidence. The Indians were 
brought into court. They had not been able to se- 
cure an attorney, and no one volunteered to appear 
in their behalf. The court accordingly took it upon 
itself to appoint counsel. To the surprise of all, 
the name of the missing John Taylor was mentioned 
as that of the attorney for the defendants. Taylor, 
it appears, had heard of the affair while in the West, 
and had immediately set out for Pennsylvania. Ar- 
riving on the morning of the day set for the trial, he 
sought out the judge, and expressed his desire to ap- 
pear as the defending counsel. As soon as the pro- 
ceedings commenced, he appeared in court, made a 
powerful speech in behalf of the prisoners, and suc- 
ceeded in obtaining their acquittal. This done, he 
deliberately walked out of the room, without speak- 
ing to his wife or friends, and left the neighbor- 
hood. He was never heard of afterward. Mrs. 
Taylor was not again molested. The three Indians 
continued to visit the settlements, but they were 
never again imprisoned for killing a negro whom 
they took to be the devil. 



Mr. Heckewelder, in his " Historical Account of 
the Indians," speaking of their manner of surprising 
their enemies, relates the following anecdote : 

In the beginning of the summer of the year 1775, 
a most atrocious and shocking murder was unexpect- 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



4^3 



edly committed by a party of Indians, on fourteen 
white settlers within five or six miles of Shamokin. 
The surviving whites, in their rage, determined to take 
their revenge by murdering a Delaware Indian who 
happened to be in those parts, and was far from 
thinking himself in danger. He was a great friend 
to the whites, was loved and esteemed by them, and, 
in testimony of their regard, had received from them 
the name of Luke Holland, by which name he was 
generally known. This Indian, satisfied that his nat- 
ure was incapable of committing such a foul murder 
in a time of profound peace, told the enraged settlers 
that the Delawares were not in any manner concerned 
in it, and that it was the act of some wicked Mingoes 
or Iroquois, whose custom it was to involve other 
nations in wars with each other by clandestinely com- 
mitting murders, so that they might be laid to the 
charge of others than themselves. But all his repre- 
sentations were in vain ; he could not convince exasper- 
ated men whose minds were fully bent upon revenge. 
At last he offered that if they would give him a party 
to accompany him, he would go with them in quest 
of the murderers, and was sure that he could discover 
them by the prints of their feet and other marks well 
known to him, by which he would convince them that 
the real perpetrators of the crime belonged to the 
Six Nations. 

His proposal was accepted; he marched at the 
head of a party of whites, and led them into the 
tracks. They soon found themselves in the most 
rocky parts of the mountain, where not one of those 



464 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



who accompanied him was able to discover a single 
track, nor would they believe that ever a man had 
trodden on this ground, as they had to jump over a 
number of crevices between the rocks, and in some 
instances to crawl over them. Now they began to 
believe that the Indian had led them across those 
rugged mountains in order to give the enemy time 
to escape, and threatened him with instant death the 
moment they should be fully convinced of the fraud. 
The Indian, true to his promise, would take pains to 
make them perceive that an enemy had passed along 
the places through which he was leading them. Here 
he would show them that the moss on the rock had 
been trodden down by the weight of a human foot; 
then that it had been torn and dragged forward from 
its place. Further on he would point out to them 
that pebbles or small stones on the rocks had been 
removed from their beds by the foot hitting against 
them; that dry sticks, by being trodden upon them, 
were broken ; and even that in a particular place an 
Indian's blanket had been dragged over the rocks, 
and removed or loosened the leaves lying there, so 
that they lay no more flat, as in other places ; all of 
which the Indian could perceive, as he walked along, 
without ever stopping. 

At last arriving at the foot of the mountain, on 
soft ground where the tracks were deep, he found 
out that the enemy were eight in number; and from 
the freshness of the foot-prints, he concluded that 
they must be encamped at no great distance. This 
proved to be the exact truth ; for, after gaining the 



/ 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



465 



eminence on the other side of the valley, the Indians 
were seen encamped, some having lain down to sleep, 
while others were drawing off their leggins for the 
same purpose, and the scalps they had taken were 
hanged up to dry. 

"See!" said Luke Holland to his astonished com- 
panions; "there is the enemy! Not of my nation, but 
Mingoes, as I truly tell you. They are in our power; 
in less than half an hour they will all be fast asleep. 
We need not fire a gun, but go up and tomahawk 
them. We are nearly two to one, and need not ap- 
prehend danger. Come on, and you will now have 
your full revenge." 

But the whites, overcome with fear, did not choose 
to follow the Indian's advice, and urged him to take 
them back by the nearest and best way, which he 
did; and when they arrived at home, late at night, 
they reported the number of the Iroquois to have 
been so great that they durst not venture to attack 
them. 

This account, says Heckewelder, is faithfully given 
as I received it from Luke Holland himself, and took 
it down in writing at the time. 



Mr. Hall, the author of the "Romance of West- 
ern History," relates that one day, while riding over 
a steep, wild, and barren range of precipices, called 
Muldrow's Hill, in Central Kentucky, he observed a 
dilapidated log-hut situated in the most isolated and 
rocky part of that region. On inquiry, he was told 



466 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



that this lonely habitation had been built by a Mr. 
Muldrow, the earliest settler of those parts, who had 
chosen the location partly on account of its security 
from attack, and partly because, as his occupation 
was that of the hunter rather than that of the agri- 
culturist, he preferred the lonely and secluded rocks 
to the rich alluvial bottoms. Mr. Hall goes on to 
say: 

The individual alluded to, settled here at a time 
when there was not a single white man but himself 
in this vicinity, and here he had resided with his wife, 
for a year, without having seen the face of any other 
human being. Perhaps, as it was his choice to reside 
in a wilderness, isolated from his own species, he 
might have thought it prudent to conceal his place of 
abode from the Indians, by erecting his cabin in an 
inhospitable waste, difficult of access, where there 
were no pastures to invite the deer or buffalo, and no 
game to allure the savage hunter, and where his fam- 
ily remained secure, while he roved with his gun over 
some hunting-ground at a convenient distance. 

After passing a year in this mode of life, he was 
one day wandering through the woods in search of 
game, when he heard the barking of a dog, and sup- 
posing that an Indian was near, concealed himself. 
Presently a small dog came running along his track, 
with his nose to the ground, as if pursuing his foot- 
steps, and had nearly reached his hiding-place, when 
it stopped, snuffed the air, and uttered a low whine, 
as if to admonish its master that the object of pur- 
suit was near at hand. In a few minutes the owner 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



467 



of the dog came stepping cautiously along, glancing 
his eyes jealously around, and uttering low signals to 
the dog. But the dog stood at fault, and the owner 
halted, within a few yards of our hunter, and fully 
exposed to view. The new-comer was a tall, athletic 
man, completely armed, with rifle, tomahawk, and 
knife ; but whether he was a white man or an Indian, 
could not be determined, either by his complexion or 
dress. He wore a hunting-shirt and leggins, of 
dressed deer-skin, and a hat from which the rim was 
entirely torn away, and the crown elongated into the 
shape of a sugar-loaf. The face, feet, and hands, 
which were exposed, were of the tawny hue of the 
savage, but whether the color was natural, or the 
effect of exposure, could not be ascertained even by 
the keen eye of the hunter ; and the features were so 
disguised by dirt and gunpowder, that their expression 
afforded no clue, by which the question could be de- 
cided, whether the individual was a friend or a foe. 
There was but a moment for deliberation ; and after a 
hasty scrutiny, the pioneer, inclining to the opinion 
that the stranger was an Indian, cautiously drew up 
his rifle, and took a deliberate aim ; but the bare pos- 
sibility that he might be pointing his weapon at the 
bosom of a countryman, induced him to pause. Again 
he raised his gun, and again hesitated ; while his op- 
ponent, with his rifle half raised towards his face, and 
his finger on the trigger, looked eagerly around. Both 
stood motionless and silent ; one searching for the ob- 
ject of his pursuit, and the other in readiness to fire. 
At length the hunter, having resolved to delay no 



468 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



longer, cocked his rifle — the tick reached the acute 
ear of his opponent, who instantly sprang behind a 
tree ; the hunter imitated his example, and they were 
now fairly opposed, each covered by a tree, from be- 
hind which he endeavored to get a shot at his adver- 
sary without exposing his own person. And now a 
series of stratagems ensued, each seeking to draw the 
fire of the other ; until the stranger, becoming weary 
of suspense, called out, "Why don't you shoot, you 
eternal cowardly varment?" 

"Shoot yourself, you bloody red-skin," retorted 
the other. 

"No more a red-skin than yourself." 

"Are you a white man?" 

"To be sure I am; are you?" 

"Yes; no mistake in me." 

Whereupon each being undeceived, they threw 
down their guns, rushed together with open arms, 
and took a hearty hug. The hunter now learned that 
the stranger had been settled, with his family, about 
ten miles from him, for several months past, and that 
they had often roamed over the same hunting-grounds 
each supposing himself the sole inhabitant of that 
region. On the following day, the hunter saddled his 
horse, and, taking up his good- wife behind him, carried 
her down to make a call upon her new neighbor, 
who doubtless received the visit with far more sincere 
joy than usually attends such ceremonies. 



The two following anecdotes are taken from 
McClung's "Sketches of Western Adventure:" 



MTJLDROWS ADVENTURE. 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



471 



On the night of the nth of April, 1787, the house 
of a widow, in Bourbon County, became the scene of 
an adventure which, we think, deserves to be related. 
She occupied what is generally called a double cabin in 
a lonely part of the country, one room of which was 
tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two 
grown sons and a widowed daughter (at that time 
suckling an infant), while the other was occupied 
by two unmarried daughters, from sixteen to twenty 
years of age, together with a little girl not more than 
half-grown. The hour was eleven o'clock at night. 
One of the unmarried daughters was still busily en- 
gaged at the loom, but the other members of the 
family, with the exception of one of the sons, had 
retired to rest. Some symptoms of an alarming 
nature had engaged the attention of the young man 
for an hour before any thing of a decided character 
took place. 

The cries of owls were heard in the adjoining wood, 
answering each other in rather an unusual manner. 
The horses, which were inclosed, as usual, in a pound 
near the house, were more than commonly excited, 
and by repeated snorting and galloping announced 
the presence of some object of terror. The young 
man was often upon the point of awakening his 
brother, but was as often restrained by the fear of 
incurring ridicule and the reproach of timidity, at 
that time an unpardonable blemish in the character 
of a Kentuckian. At length hasty steps were heard 
in the yard, and, quickly afterward, several loud 
knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual ex- 



472 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



clamation, "Who keeps house?" in very good En- 
glish. The young man, supposing from the lan- 
guage that some benighted settlers were at the 
door, hastily arose, and was advancing to withdraw 
the bar which secured it, when his mother, who had 
long lived upon the frontiers, and had probably de- 
tected the Indian tone in the demand for admission, 
instantly sprang out of bed and ordered her son not 
to admit them, declaring that they were Indians. 

She instantly awakened her other son, and the two 
young men, seizing their guns, which were always 
charged, prepared to repel the enemy. The Indians, 
finding it impossible to enter under their assumed 
characters, began to thunder at the door with great 
violence, but a single shot from a loop-hole com- 
pelled them to shift the attack to some less-exposed 
point, and, unfortunately, they discovered the door 
of the other cabin, which contained the three daugh- 
ters. The rifles of the brothers could not be brought 
to bear upon this point, and, by means of several rails 
taken from the yard fence, the door was forced from 
its hinges, and the three girls were at the mercy of 
the savages. One was instantly secured, but the 
eldest defended herself desperately with a knife 
which she had been using at the loom, and stabbed 
one of the Indians to the heart before she was toma- 
hawked. 

In the meantime the little girl, who had been over- 
looked by the enemy in their eagerness to secure the 
others, ran out into the yard, and might have effected 
her escape had she taken advantage of the darkness 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



473 



and fled ; but, instead of that, the terrified little creat- 
ure ran around the house, wringing her hands, and 
crying out that her sisters were killed. The brothers, 
unable to hear her cries without risking every thing 
for her rescue, rushed to the door, and were prepar- 
ing to sally out to her assistance, when their mother 
threw herself before them, and calmly declared that 
the child must be abandoned to its fate ; that the sally 
w r ould sacrifice the lives of all the rest without the 
slightest benefit to the little girl. Just then the child 
uttered a loud scream, followed by a few faint moans, 
and all was again silent. Presently the crackling of 
flames was heard, accompanied by a triumphant yell 
from the Indians, announcing that they had set fire 
to that division of the house which had been occupied 
by the daughters, and of which they held undisputed 
possession. 

The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of 
the building, and it became necessary to abandon it 
or perish in the flames. In the one case there was a 
possibility that some might escape ; in the other, their 
fate would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid 
approach of the flames cut short their momentary sus- 
pense. The door was thrown open, and the old lady, 
supported by her eldest son, attempted to cross the 
fence at one point; while her daughter, carrying her 
child in her arms, and attended by the younger of the 
brothers, ran in a different direction. The blazing 
roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to 
that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen 
awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady 



474 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but, in 
the act of crossing, received several balls in her 
breast and fell dead. Her son, providentially, re- 
mained unhurt, and by extraordinary agility effected 
his escape. 

The other party succeeded also in reaching the 
fence unhurt, but, in the act of crossing, were vig- 
orously assailed by several Indians, who, throwing 
down their guns, rushed upon them with their toma- 
hawks. The young man defended his sister gal- 
lantly, firing upon the enemy as they approached, 
and then wielding the butt of his rifle with a fury 
that drew their whole attention upon himself, and 
gave his sister an opportunity of effecting her es- 
cape. He quickly fell, however, under the toma- 
hawks of his enemies, and was found, at daylight, 
scalped and mangled in a shocking manner. Of the 
whole family, consisting of eight persons when the 
attack commenced, only three escaped. Four were 
killed upon the spot, and one (the second daughter) 
carried off as a prisoner. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by 
daylight about thirty men were assembled, under 
the command of Colonel Edwards. A light snow 
had fallen during the latter part of the night, and 
the Indian trail could be pursued at a gallop. It 
led directly into the mountainous country bordering 
upon Licking, and afforded evidences of great hurry 
and precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Un- 
fortunately, a hound had been permitted to accom- 
pany the whites, and, as the trail became fresh and 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



475 



the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, 
baying loudly and giving the alarm to the Indians. 
The consequences of this imprudence were soon dis- 
played. The enemy, finding the pursuit keen, and 
perceiving that the strength of the prisoner began 
to fail, instantly sunk their tomahawks in her head, 
and left her, still warm and bleeding, upon the snow. 

As the whites came up, she retained strength 
enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, 
and appeared desirous of giving them some infor- 
mation with regard to the enemy, but her strength 
was too far gone. Her brother sprang from his 
horse and knelt by her side, endeavoring to stop 
the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him 
her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and 
expired within two minutes after the arrival of the 
party. The pursuit was renewed with additional 
ardor, and in twenty minutes the enemy was within 
view. They had taken possession of a steep, 
narrow ridge, and seemed desirous of magnifying 
their numbers in the eyes of the whites, as they 
ran rapidly from tree to tree, and maintained a 
steady yell in their most appalling tones. The pur- 
suers, however, were too experienced to be de- 
ceived by so common an artifice ; and, being satis- 
fied that the number of the enemy must be inferior 
to their own, they dismounted, tied their horses, and, 
flanking out in such a manner as to inclose the 
enemy, ascended the ridge as rapidly as was con- 
sistent with a due regard to the shelter of their 
persons. 



476 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



The firing quickly commenced, and now, for the 
first time, they discovered that only two Indians 
were opposed to them. They had voluntarily sac- 
rificed themselves for the safety of the main body, 
and had succeeded in delaying pursuit until their 
friends could reach the mountains. One of them 
was instantly shot dead, and the other was badly 
wounded, as was evident from the blood upon his 
blanket, as well as that which filled his tracks in the 
snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit was 
re-commenced, and urged keenly until night, when 
the trail entered a running stream and was lost. 
On the following morning the snow had melted, 
and every trace of the enemy was obliterated. This 
affair must be regarded as highly honorable to the 
skill, address, and activity of the Indians; and the 
self-devotion of the rear-guard is a lively instance 
of that magnanimity of which they are at times ca- 
pable, and which is more remarkable in them from 
the extreme caution and tender regard for their own 
lives, which usually distinguishes their warriors. 

A few weeks after this melancholy affair, a very 
remarkable incident occurred in the same neighbor- 
hood. One morning, about sunrise, a young man of 
wild and savage appearance suddenly arose from a 
cluster of bushes in front of a cabin, and hailed the 
house in a barbarous dialect, which seemed neither 
exactly Indian nor English, but a collection of shreds 
and patches from which the graces of both were care- 
fully excluded. His skin had evidently once been 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS 



477 



white, although now grievously tanned by constant ex- 
posure to the weather. His dress, in every respect, 
was that of an Indian, as were his gestures, tones, 
and equipments, and his age could not be supposed 
to exceed twenty years. He talked volubly but un- 
couthly, placed his hand upon his breast, gestured 
vehemently, and seemed very earnestly bent upon 
communicating something. He was invited into the 
cabin, and the neighbors quickly collected around him. 

He appeared involuntarily to shrink from contact 
with them ; his eyes rolled rapidly around with a 
distrustful expression from one to the other, and his 
whole manner was that of a wild animal, just caught, 
and shrinking from the touch of its captors. As sev= 
eral present understood the Indian tongue, they at 
length gathered the following circumstances, as accu- 
rately as they could be translated out of a language 
which seemed to be an omnium gatherum of all that 
was mongrel, uncouth, and barbarous. He said that 
he had been taken by the Indians when a child, but 
could neither recollect his name nor the country of 
his birth; that he had been adopted by an Indian 
warrior, who brought him up with his other sons, 
without making the slightest difference between them, 
and that under his father's roof he had lived happily 
until within the last month. 

A few weeks before that time, his father, accom- 
panied by himself and a younger brother, had hunted 
for some time upon the waters of the Miami, about 
forty miles from the spot where Cincinnati now stands, 
and, after all their meat, skins, etc., had been properly 



478 



THE* BACK-WOODSMEN. 



secured, the old man determined to gratify his chil- 
dren by taking them upon a war expedition to Ken- 
tucky. They accordingly built a bark canoe, in which 
they crossed the Ohio near the mouth of the Licking, 
and, having buried it, so as to secure it from the action 
of the sun, they advanced into the country and en- 
camped at the distance of fifteen miles from the river. 
Here their father was alarmed by hearing an owl cry 
in a peculiar tone, which he declared boded death or 
captivity to themselves if they continued their expe- 
dition, and announced his intention of returning with- 
out delay to the river. 

Both of his sons vehemently opposed this reso- 
lution, and at length prevailed upon the old man to 
disregard the owl's warning, and conduct them, as he 
had promised, against the frontiers of Kentucky. The 
party then composed themselves to sleep, but were 
quickly awakened by their father, who had again been 
warned, in a dream, that death awaited them in Ken- 
tucky, and again besought his children to release him 
from his promise, and lose no time in returning home. 
Again they prevailed upon him to disregard the warn- 
ing and persevere in the march. He consented to 
gratify them, but declared he would not remain a 
moment longer in the camp which they now occu- 
pied ; and, accordingly, they left it immediately, and 
marched on through the night, directing their course 
toward Bourbon County. 

In the evening they approached a house — that 
which he had hailed and in which he was now speak- 
ing. Suddenly the desire of rejoining his people oc- 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



479 



cupied his mind so strongly as to exclude every other 
idea; and, seizing the first favorable opportunity, he 
had concealed himself in the bushes, and neglected to 
reply to all the signajss which had been concerted for 
the purpose of collecting their party when scattered. 
This account appeared so extraordinary, and the 
young man's appearance was so wild and suspicious, 
that many of the neighbors suspected him of treach- 
ery, and thought that he should be arrested as a spy. 
Others opposed this resolution, and gave full credit 
to his narrative. In order to satisfy themselves, how- 
ever, they insisted upon his instantly conducting them 
to the spot where the canoe had been buried. To this 
the young man objected most vehemently, declaring 
that although he had deserted his father and brother, 
yet he would not betray them. 

These feelings were too delicate to meet with much 
sympathy from the rude borderers who surrounded 
him, and he was given to understand that nothing 
short of conducting them to the point of embarkation 
would be accepted as an evidence of his sincerity. 
With obvious reluctance he at length complied. 
From twenty to thirty men were quickly assembled, 
mounted upon good horses, and, under the guidance 
of the deserter, they moved rapidly toward the mouth 
of the Licking. On the road the young man in- 
formed them that he would first conduct them to the 
spot where they had encamped when the scream of 
the owl had alarmed his father, and where an iron 
kettle had been left, concealed in a hollow tree. He 
was probably induced to do this from the hope of 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



delaying the pursuit so long as to afford his friends 
an opportunity of crossing the river in safety. 

But if such was his intention, no measure could 
have been more unfortunate. The whites approach- 
ed the encampment in deep silence, and quickly per- 
ceived two Indians — an old man and a boy — seated 
by the fire, and busily employed in cooking some veni- 
son. The deserter became much agitated at the sight 
of them, and so earnestly implored his countrymen not 
to kill them, that it was agreed to surround the en- 
campment and endeavor to secure them as prisoners. 
This was accordingly attempted; but so desperate 
was the resistance of the Indians, and so determined 
were their efforts to escape, that the whites were 
compelled to fire upon them, and the old man fell 
mortally wounded, while the boy, by an incredible 
display of address and activity, was enabled to es- 
cape. The deserter beheld his father fall, and, 
throwing himself from his horse, he ran up to the 
spot where the old man lay, bleeding but still sensi- 
ble, and, falling upon his body, besought his forgive- 
ness for being the unwilling cause of his death, and 
wept bitterly. 

His father evidently recognized him, and gave him 
his hand, but almost instantly afterward expired. 
The white men now called upon him to conduct them 
at a gallop to the spot where the canoe was buried, 
expecting to reach it before the Indian boy and 
intercept him. The deserter in vain implored them 
to compassionate his feelings. He urged that he had 
already sufficiently demonstrated the truth of his 



THE INDIAN BETRAYED BY HIS WHITE BROTHER. 



INTERESTING INCIDENTS. 



483 



former assertions, at the expense of his father's life, 
and earnestly entreated them to permit his younger 
brother to escape. His companions, however, were 
inexorable. Nothing but the blood of the young In- 
dian would satisfy them, and the deserter was again 
compelled to act as a guide. Within two hours they 
reached the designated spot. The canoe was still 
there, and no track could be seen upon the sand, 
so that it was evident that their victim had not yet 
arrived. 

Hastily dismounting, they tied their horses and 
concealed themselves within close rifle-shot of the 
canoe. Within ten minutes after their arrival, the 
Indian appeared in sight, walking swiftly toward 
them. He went straight to the spot where the 
canoe had been buried, and was in the act of dig- 
ging it up when he received a dozen balls through 
his body, and, leaping high into the air, fell dead 
upon the sand. He was instantly scalped and bu- 
ried where he fell, without having seen his brother, 
and, probably, without having known the treachery 
by which he and his father had lost their lives. The 
deserter remained but a short time in Bourbon, and 
never regained his tranquillity of mind. He shortly 
afterward disappeared, but whether to seek his rela- 
tions in Virginia or Pennsylvania, or whether, dis- 
gusted by the ferocity of the whites, he returned to 
the Indians, has never yet been known. He was 
never heard of afterward. 



MRS. CUNNINGHAM'S CAPTIVITY. 



A BOUT 1780 two brothers, Thomas and Edward 
A Cunningham, settled with their families on Binga- 
mon Creek, in the western part of Pennsylvania. They 
built their dwellings separate, though adjoining one 
another, but at the same time not in a direct line. 
Their occupation was partly that of hunting, and 
partly that of farming, and their business frequently 
took them on trading expeditions to the east of the 
mountains, where they exchanged their produce, furs, 
game, etc., for provisions and household necessities. 
These trading expeditions were made by the broth- 
ers in turn, one of them always remaining at home 
to guard the dwellings and protect the women and 
children. 

They had lived in this way peaceably and un- 
molested for about five years, when one day in the 
early autumn of 1785, while Thomas was absent on 
a journey to the east, a tall and powerful savage 
suddenly entered the room where his wife and chil- 
dren were seated eating their dinner. Mrs. Cunning- 
ham, on seeing the fellow, gave a loud scream, and 
cried to her brother-in-law, Edward, who, with his 
family, was seated at dinner in the adjoining house, 

beseeching him to protect her. Edward instantly 

(484) 



MRS. CUNNINGHAM'S CAPTIVITY. 



485 



sprang to his feet, seized his fire-piece, and, station- 
ing himself at a place in the wall where a small 
aperture had been cut for the purpose of admitting 
light, prepared to fire on the enemy as soon as he 
should show himself. 

Meanwhile the Indian, hearing the noise in the 
room, and conjecturing that Cunningham had armed 
himself and taken an offensive stand, gave over 
whatever hostile intentions he might have had toward 
the women and children, and commenced to move 
cautiously around the room, evidently seeking an 
avenue of exit. He did not dare to leave through 
the door, for, as the two houses did not stand in a 
line, he knew that the moment he showed himself on 
the threshold he would be exposed to the fire of 
Cunningham and probably shot dead. Finally, seeing 
that there was no means of leaving the house with- 
out danger, he stopped still in the middle of the 
room, drew his tomahawk, advanced with noiseless 
steps to the table, and, swinging the weapon in a 
menacing manner, whispered to Mrs. Cunningham to 
keep perfectly still on pain of instant death. 

The frightened woman did not need a repetition 
of this order, for her senses had almost wholly de- 
serted her, and, throwing her arms around her four 
children, who clung close to her, she watched the 
movements of the Indian with the anxiety of one 
whose life hangs upon but a single thread, 

The wary savage had evidently formed a plan of 
attack of his own, for, stooping on hands and knees, 
he crept to :he partition which separated the two 



486 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



dwellings, and then crawled on until he came to a 
place where another aperture had been made. Hold- 
ing his gun, which was ready-cocked, in his left hand, 
he slowly and silently lifted himself to an upright 
posture, and then cautiously applying his eye to the 
hole, looked into the room to ascertain the position 
of his enemy. He was apparently satisfied, for, im- 
mediately raising his gun, he placed the muzzle in the 
aperture, took a quick aim, and fired ; uttering, as he 
did so, a yell of exultation, no doubt supposing that 
his shot had taken fatal effect. 

Cunningham, who had also been constantly on the 
alert, saw the Indian just in time, and, jumping to 
one side, saved himself. The ball whistled past him 
and buried itself in a log above his head. The bark 
of the log was knocked off, and flew in all directions, 
covering Cunningham with a fine dust. The Indian, 
perceiving that his design was thwarted, made a 
sudden spring back, quickly reloaded his gun, and 
then, going to one corner of the room, picked up an 
adze which he had seen lying there, and commenced 
to hew an opening in the back wall in order that he 
might be able to pass out without exposing himself 
to Cunningham's fire. 

While the Indian was thus employed, Cunningham, 
finding that he could not bring him within range, 
and guessing that the Indian's companions — for he 
knew that he could not be unaccompanied — would 
soon come to his assistance, changed his station, and, 
placing himself at a point where he could command 
a view of the yard, thrust the muzzle of his gun 



mrs. Cunningham's captivity. 



487 



through a port-hole, and stood in readiness for his 
enemies. Soon he saw an Indian leap over the fence 
and advance cautiously toward the house. Cunning- 
ham waited for him to come nearer. The Indian 
suddenly stopped short, looked straight toward the 
port-hole, and, seeing the protruding muzzle of the 
gun, quickly dodged to one side and then com- 
menced to run, retreating in as crooked a course as 
possible. Cunningham coolly waited until he reached 
the fence, and was about to spring over, when he 
let the hammer of his rifle fall. The Indian dropped, 
but immediately rose, hobbled over the fence, and, 
stumbling forward as fast as his wounded condition 
would permit, succeeded in reaching cover before 
Cunningham had finished recharging his gun. 

The Indian in Thomas Cunningham's house, in 
the meantime, continued to industriously hew at the 
logs, seeking to effect an opening which should afford 
him an avenue of escape. Mrs. Cunningham, al- 
though she was convinced that the Indian, as soon 
as he finished cutting the aperture, would turn and 
kill her and her children, did not attempt to leave 
the house. She might easily have escaped through 
the door while the savage was at work; but she 
could not take the children with her; and to leave 
them in the room with the brutal Indian was a 
thought which could not be entertained for a mo- 
ment. She knew, besides, that it would be impossi- 
ble for her to leave without being seen by the enemy 
on the outside, — still more so for her to succeed in 
gaining shelter in her brother-in-law's house. She 



488 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN, 



accordingly sat perfectly quiet, waiting for the savage 
to finish his task and decide her fate. 

In a few moments the opening was made, and the 
Indian, suspending his labor, threw aside the adze 
and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He 
then gave a grunt of satisfaction, and, casting a 
glance full of terrible significance at Mrs. Cunning- 
ham, deliberately drew his tomahawk from his belt 
and advanced to the table. The poor woman, with 
an infant, scarcely one month old, at her breast, and 
with her other three children gathered around her, sat 
in momentary expectation of the blow. The Indian 
did not, however, give her this satisfaction. Seizing 
one of the children, a boy of about ten, by the hair, he 
dragged him from his mother and in a moment sunk 
the tomahawk deep in his brain. He then flung the 
body of the youth into the back yard, turned to Mrs. 
Cunningham, and, making a threatening gesture, or- 
dered her to follow. Knowing that death would be 
the inevitable consequence of refusal, Mrs. Cunning- 
ham rose, and straining the infant to her breast and, 
telling the other two children to keep close to her, 
walked through the opening, stepped over the body 
of her dead son, and waited for the further orders of 
her captor. 

The Indian now drew his scalping-knife, and, kneel- 
ing down by the lifeless youth, quickly finished his 
barbarous work. This done, he re-entered the 
house, gathered together all the furniture and threw 
it in a heap. He next applied a light to the com- 
bustible pile, and in a moment a sharp blaze sprang 



mrs. Cunningham's captivity. 



489 



up k and a dense volume of smoke poured through 
the opening. Stopping only to satisfy himself that 
nothing remained to be done, he started on a run 
with his prisoners for a field a few rods distant. 
Here he found two of his companions standing over 
the fellow who had been wounded by the ball from 
Cunningham's rifle. Two others had been stationed 
at the door of the house, in order to intercept the 
whites when, from the increasing heat, they should 
attempt to make their escape. 

When the wretched occupants ot the dwelling dis- 
covered that they were doomed to die in the flames, 
they sent up a cry of dismay and terror. Mrs. Cun- 
ningham — from her station in the field — watched the 
increasing conflagration with every emotion of anxiety. 
The flames soon appeared through the roof of the 
first building, and were quickly communicated to the 
second. Still the occupants did not emerge from 
the burning house, and the Indians in the field, sur- 
prised at the fortitude which they showed, left their 
wounded companion and advanced toward the dwell- 
ings, in order that they might obtain a nearer view 
of the scene. 

Suddenly one of the savages on guard uttered a 
loud cry, and, pointing toward the roof of Edward 
Cunningham's house, yelled to his companions to 
shoot. Mrs. Cunningham now saw that her brother- 
in-law, with his eldest son, finding the heat intolera- 
ble, had ascended to the loft and commenced to knock 
the boarding off the roof. The two men were stand- 
ing in the midst of the flames, and were working with 



49Q 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



all the energy of desperation. They were throwing the 
burning timber to the ground, and, although the flames 
were mounting high, their efforts were not without 
success, for the further progress of the fire was slowly 
but effectually stopped. The Indians shot at them 
repeatedly, but, although their bullets frequently 
struck close by, the brave men were not harmed, 
and they continued their work so successfully that, 
in the course of a few minutes, the flames subsided 
and at length died entirely out. 

Disappointed in their hope of completing the work 
of destruction and not caring to remain longer, 
since they knew that the settlers from the neighbor- 
hood would soon gather, the Indians returned to the 
spot where they had left their prisoners. A rude litter 
for their wounded companion was quickly constructed, 
and the savages, placing him upon it, prepared to 
retreat. 

Before setting out, the Indians quickly dispatched 
the two children. One of these, a bright and very 
active little boy, was brained by the blow of a toma- 
hawk. He was then scalped, and his mangled re- 
mains flung at the feet of his agonized mother. The 
other child was a girl about six years old. While her 
brother was suffering this horrible treatment she ran 
around, wringing her hands and screaming in terror. 
She was quickly seized by one of the savages, and, 
in spite of her cries and the piteous entreaties of her 
mother, was knocked in the head in the same brutal 
manner. Life was not instantly extinguished, and a 
scene of the most unexampled barbarity followed. 



mrs. Cunningham's captivity. 



491 



The quivering body of the poor child was taken up 
by one of the savages, who seized it by the feet and 
slung it repeatedly against the trunk of a large tree, 
continuing to beat it in this manner until it was 
crushed into an almost unrecognizable mass. Over- 
come with grief, Mrs. Cunningham stood with her 
only surviving child in her arms, momentarily ex- 
pecting that it would be torn from her and devoted 
to a like ruthless fate. But when the Indians had 
finally completed the work of death and torture, they 
turned to her and roughly ordered her to follow them, 
without attempting to deprive her of the infant. They 
all departed and set out in the direction of Bingamon 
Creek, covering their trail, as they proceeded, with 
the utmost care. 

After traveling for two or three miles the savages 
came to the rocky bank of the creek, and, going up 
it for some distance, at length halted before a clump 
of small bushes. They directed Mrs. Cunningham to 
get down on her hands and knees and creep forward 
without disturbing any of the branches. She did as 
she was told, and at length came to the opening of a 
deep cave. Into this she was obliged to creep. The 
savages followed her, and, placing themselves in a 
position where they could command a view of the 
front, and fire upon any one who might be disposed 
to intrude, waited in silence for the evening. 

As soon as it began to grow dark, four of the sav- 
ages cautiously crept from their place of concealment, 
and, taking a circuitous route, returned to the dwell- 
ings of the Cunninghams, hoping to find the family 



49 2 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

who had escaped them still in their home. In this 
hope, however, they were disappointed. Upon the 
withdrawal of the savages in the afternoon, Edward 
Cunningham had gathered his family and beaten a 
hasty retreat; so that nothing was now left for the 
Indians but to plunder the dwelling. This they did, 
and then quickly fired the house and returned to 
their companions. 

An earnest consultation was now held by the Indi- 
ans with regard to their future course. Mrs. Cuuning- 
ham, not being acquainted with their tongue, could 
not understand what they said; but she conjectured 
that the point in dispute was whether they should re- 
main where they were or proceed. 

About midnight two of the savages took their guns 
and left the cavern. They did not return until noon 
of the next day, when they appeared, carrying at 
their belts two fresh scalps, and bearing in their 
hands two wild turkeys, which they had killed, 
stripped of their feathers, and cooked. Their four 
companions seized the game, and, tearing the birds 
limb from limb, devoured the flesh greedily. They 
did not offer their prisoner a morsel, and the poor 
woman commenced to realize that it was their pur- 
pose to starve her babe to death and then proceed 
with her alone. 

When the savages had finished their meal, they 
began to converse in low tones. Mrs. Cunningham 
watched them anxiously. From the manner of their 
talk and their frequent references to their wounded 
companion, she concluded that the object of their 



mrs. Cunningham's captivity. 493 

dispute was to determine when and how they should 
proceed. Every thing confirmed this conclusion. It 
was finally decided, as Mrs. Cunningham could not 
help but believe, that they should remain where they 
were until the wounded man should recover. 

Towards evening the two Indians again left the 
cave. In about two hours they returned with a fresh 
supply of cooked meat. This time Mrs. Cunningham 
was treated more humanely, for she was given a 
hearty meal. The Indians even showed themselves 
to be not regardless of her delicate and painful con- 
dition, for, when the hour for rest arrived, they pre- 
pared a bed of leaves, and, offering her a blanket, 
told her to lie down. 

The Indians remained concealed with their prisoner 
four days longer, without being molested. During this 
time they were constantly watchful, for they knew 
that pursuing parties were scouring the country in 
search of them. Once they caught a glimpse of a 
band of men marching down the creek. Another time 
a searching party appeared, examining the ground for 
their trail, not more than two rods from the entrance 
to the cave. The Indians silently took a position, from 
which they could see, and, if need be, fire at their ene- 
mies. One of them motioned to Mrs. Cunningham to 
hold her infant in such a manner that it would not 
make the slightest noise. She pressed it to her breast 
and kept it quiet, but inwardly prayed for the success 
of her friends. The Indians, however, had covered 
their trail so carefully that it was not found, and 
after awhile the whites withdrew. 



494 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



The next day, as the wounded Indian had so far re- 
gained his strength as to be able again to proceed, the 
party continued their journey. Owing to the disabled 
condition of the savage, however, the march was com- 
paratively slow. Frequent halts were made on the 
way, and it was many days before the Indians got far 
enough away from the settlements to regard them- 
selves safe and to give over their precautionary 
measures against pursuit. 

In addition to her anguish of mind, Mrs. Cunning- 
ham was now destined to endure the severest pains 
of body. A most harrowing story, descriptive of her 
sufferings, might be told ; but few would care to read 
a narrative so painful. A very brief account of the 
trials which she passed through on the journey will 
be sufficient. 

The Indians, whether from mercy or whether from 
remorse for their cruelty in slaughtering the three 
children, had permitted Mrs. Cunningham to keep 
her infant. While in the cave they had, after the first 
day, supplied her generously with food. But, when 
the march was commenced, they were entirely short 
of provisions, and for two days they met with no 
success whatever in the hunt. The result was that 
Mrs. Cunningham, already oppressed with the most 
terrible pains, gradually sunk to the lowest point of 
bodily exhaustion. Starved almost to death, she could 
give no sustenance to the poor infant at her breast. 
The babe plied for milk, but in vain ; blood came 
instead. Finally, one of the Indians, seeing the 
wretched condition of mother and child, told Mrs. 



MRS. CUNNINGHAM'S CAPTIVITY. 495 

Cunningham that her infant must die. She clasped 
it closer to her breast, and, with all of woman's elo- 
quence, besought him to be merciful. The savage 
gave no reply, but in an instant sunk his hatchet into 
the infant's breast. He then tore the bleeding remains 
from Mrs. Cunningham's arms and flung the corpse 
to one side, where he left it without a leaf or bush 
to hide it from the wild animals. 

As the Indians proceeded, the wounded man grad- 
ually regained his accustomed vigor, and consequent- 
ly greater rapidity was gained, and the delays were 
less numerous. Mrs. Cunningham was forced forward 
at a speed which obliged her to exert herself to the 
utmost. Her physical condition before long became 
pitiable in the extreme. During ten days she ate 
nothing but the head of a wild turkey and three 
pawpaws. She often had fits of dizziness, stumbled, 
and fell to the earth, but the savages seemed deter- 
mined on prolonging her sufferings ; and each time 
waited for her to rise, when they placed her before 
them and went on with redoubled speed. 

Finally an Indian village was reached. Here the 
unhappy prisoner was allowed a brief rest. She was 
taken to a cabin and told that she might sleep for 
awhile on a bed, if she wished. The offer was gladly 
accepted, and Mrs. Cunningham took off her clothes 
and lay down on a comfortable couch for the first 
time in two weeks. Some idea of the acuteness of 
her sufferings may be gained when it is said that, in 
taking off her stockings, the skin and nails of her 
feet, scalded by wading the numerous creeks which 



496 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



had been crossed on the march, came with them. 
After a day spent at this first village, Mrs. Cunning- 
ham was taken to her final destination, a town a few 
miles off. Here she was delivered to an old Indian, 
who took her into his cabin. She was not shown any 
favors or kindnesses, and indeed was so harshly 
treated that she began to dread that her captors medi- 
tated inflicting on her some species of punishment or 
torture. Her apprehensions, however, were without 
ground, for she received no worse usage than neglect 
and occasional blows. 

One evening the village was thrown into a fever of 
excitement by the announcement that Simon Girty 
was about to pay it a visit in order to consult with 
the chiefs on certain propositions for peace which 
had recently been made by the whites. Hearing this 
news, Mrs. Cunningham, who could not believe that 
a man who had once lived in a civilized community 
could be wholly incapable of pity, determined to rep- 
resent her case to him, and, if possible, obtain his 
intercession in her behalf. 

Girty arrived. The council was held that evening, 
and Mrs. Cunningham was unable to obtain an audi- 
ence with him. The next day, however, while he was 
passing through the village on horseback, she rushed 
forward, and, laying hold of his stirrup, commenced 
to talk to him in a calm and earnest manner, telling 
him her past history, and praying him to mercifully 
deliver her. Girty at first returned a rude answer, 
but in a moment, struck by the way in which she 
spoke, he listened more attentively, and at length 



I 



MRS. CUNNINGHAM'S CAPTIVITY. 497 



commenced to question her. The result was that she 
succeeded in creating a favorable impression. He 
promised to free her from her captors. He was as 
good as his word. In a few days he paid her ransom, 
and, placing her in charge of two warriors, had her 
conveyed to the commissioners for negotiating with 
the Indians, by whom she was taken to a station on 
the south side of the Ohio. 

After a number of delays Mrs. Cunningham set 
out with a party of settlers bound for the Valley of 
Virginia. Reaching the destination of this party, she 
joined another one, by whom she was conducted up 
the Shenandoah to the county of Harrison, and thence 
to her home. 

To her intense disappointment, Mrs. Cunnningham 
found that her husband, learning that she had been 
ransomed and taken to Kentucky, had departed, 
only a few days before, hoping to meet her. It 
was thought, however, that he would return before 
long, and she accordingly accepted the invitation 
of Edward Cunningham to enter his family. The 
event was highly fortunate. Mr. Cunningham re- 
turned, and husband and wife were once more 
united. Their* joy was great, but it was not un- 
mingled with deep sorrow for the loss of their chil- 
dren. Time, however, healed the affliction. They 
were blessed with other children, and lived to old 
age in the uninterrupted enjoyment of domestic 
happiness. 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



By William D. Gallagher. 

THE fierce and bloody and continual opposition 
which the Indians have made from the first to the 
encroachments of the Anglo-Americans, is matter of 
history ; and a close scrutiny will show that the great 
instigators of that opposition have always, or nearly 
so, been renegade white men. Scattered through 
the tribes east of the Alleghanies before and during 
the Revolution, there were many such miscreants. 
Among the western tribes, during the early settle- 
ment of Ohio and Kentucky, and at the period of 
the last war with Great Britain, there were a large 
number, some of them men of talent and great 
activity. 

One of the boldest and most notorious of the 
latter was Simon Girty — for many years the scourge 
of the infant settlements of the West, the terror of 
women, and the bugaboo of children. This man was 
an adopted member of the great Wyandot nation, 
among whom he ranked high as an expert hunter, a 
brave warrior, and a powerful orator. His influence 
extended through all the tribes of the West, and was 
generally exerted to incite the Indians to expeditions 

against the " Stations" of Kentucky, and to acts of 

(498) 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 499 

cruelty to their white prisoners. The blackest coun- 
sel was usually his ; his was the voice which was 
raised loudest against his countrymen, who were 
preparing the way for the introduction of civilization 
and Christianity into this glorious region ; and in all 
great attacks upon the frontier settlements he was 
one of the prime movers and among the prominent 
leaders. 

Of the causes of that venomous hatred which 
rankled in the bosom of Simon Girty against his 
countrymen, we have two or three versions ; such as, 
that he early imbibed a feeling of contempt and ab- 
horrence of civilized life from the brutality of his 
father, the lapse from virtue of his mother, and the 
corruptions of the community in which he had his 
birth and passed his boyhood; that, while acting 
with the whites against the Indians on the Virginia 
frontier, he was stung to the quick and deeply of- 
fended by the appointment to a station over his head, 
of one who was his junior in years, and had ren- 
dered nothing like his services to the frontiers ; and 
that, when attached as a scout to Dunmore's ex- 
pedition, an indignity was heaped upon him which 
thoroughly soured his nature and drove him to the 
Indians that he might more effectually execute a 
vengeance which he swore to wreak. The last reason 
assigned for his defection and animosity is the most 
probable of the three, rests upon good authority, and 
seems sufficient, his character considered, to account 
for his desertion and subsequent career among the 
Indians. 



5oo 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



The history of the indignity alluded to, as it has 
reached the writer from one who was associated with 
Girty, and a partaker in it, is as follows : 

The two men were acting as scouts in an expedition 
set on foot by Governor Dunmore, of Virginia, in the 
year 1774 against the Indian towns of the Ohio. The 
two divisions of the force raised for this expedition — 
the one commanded by Governor Dunmore in person, 
the other by General Andrew Lewis — were by the 
orders of the Governor to form a junction at Point 
Pleasant, where the Great Kanawha empties into the 
Ohio. At this place General Lewis arrived with his 
command on the eleventh or twelfth of September; 
but, after remaining here two or three weeks in 
anxious expectation of the approach of the other 
division, he received dispatches from the Governor 
informing him that Dunmore had changed his plan 
and determined to march at once against the villages 
on the Scioto, and ordering him to cross the Ohio 
immediately, and join him as speedily as possible. 

It was during the delay at the point that the in- 
cident occurred which is supposed to have had such 
a tremendous influence on Girty's after life. He and 
his associate scout had rendered some two or three 
months' service, for which they had as yet drawn no 
part of their pay; and in their present idleness they 
discovered means of enjoyment, of which they had 
not money to avail themselves. In this strait they 
called upon General Lewis in person, at his head- 
quarters, and demanded their pay. For some un- 
known cause this was refused, which produced a 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



Might murmuring on the part of the applicants, when 
General Lewis cursed them, and struck them several 
severe blows over their heads with his cane. Girty's 
associate was not much hurt, but he himself was so 
badly wounded on the forehead, or temple, that the 
blood streamed down his cheek and side to the floor. 
He quickly turned to leave the apartment; but on 
reaching the door, wheeled round, planted his feet 
firmly upon the sill, braced an arm against either side 
of the frame, fixed his keen eyes unflinchingly upon 
the General, and uttered the exclamation, "By God, 
sir, your quarters shall swim in blood for this and 
instantly disappeared beyond pursuit. 

General Lewis was not very much pleased with the 
sudden and apparently causeless change, which Gov- 
ernor Dunmore had made in the plan of the ex- 
pedition. Nevertheless, he immediately prepared to 
obey the new orders, and had given directions for the 
construction of rafts, upon which to cross the Ohio, 
when, before daylight on the morning of the ioth of 
October, some of the scouts suddenly entered the 
encampment with the information that an immense 
body of Indians was just at hand, hastening upon the 
Point. This was the force of the brave and skillful 
chief Cornstalk, whose genius and valor were so con- 
spicuous on that day, throughout the whole of which 
raged the hardly contested and most bloody "Battle 
of the Plains. " 

Girty had fled from General Lewis immediately to 
the chief Cornstalk, foresworn his white nature and 
leagued himself with the red man forever; and with 



5° 2 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



the Indians he was now advancing, under the cover 
of night, to surprise the Virginian camp. 

At the distance of only a mile from the Point, Corn- 
stalk was met by a detachment of Virginians under 
the command of Colonel Charles Lewis, a brother 
of the General; and here, about sunrise on the ioth 
of October, 1774, commenced one of the longest, 
severest, and bloodiest battles ever fought upon the 
western frontiers. It terminated, about sunset, with 
the defeat of the Indians, it is true, but with a loss to 
the whites which carried mourning into many a man- 
sion of the Old Dominion, and which was keenly felt 
throughout the country at the time, and remembered 
with sorrow long after. 

Girty, having thrown himself among the Indians, as 
has been related, and embraced their cause, now re- 
treated with them into the interior of Ohio and ever 
after followed their fortunes without swerving. On ar- 
riving at the towns of the Wyandots, he was adopted 
into that tribe, and established himself at Upper San- 
dusky. Being active, of a strong constitution, fearless 
in the extreme, and at all times ready to join their 
war-parties, he soon became very popular among his 
new associates, and a man of much consequence. He 
was engaged in most of the expeditions against the 
frontier settlements of Pennsylvania and Virginia — 
always brave and always cruel — until the year 1778, 
when occurred an incident, which* as it is the only 
bright spot apparent in the whole dark career of the 
renegade, shall be related with some particularity. 

Girty happened to be at Lower Sandusky this year, 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



503 



when Kenton — known at that time as Simon Butler — 
was brought in to be executed by a party of Indians 
that had made him prisoner on the banks of the 
Ohio. Years before Girty and Kenton had been 
bosom companions at Fort Pitt, and served together 
subsequently in the commencement of Dunmore's 
expedition ; but the victim was already blackened for 
the stake, and the renegade failed to recognize in 
him his former associate. Girty had at this time but 
just returned from an expedition against the frontier 
of Pennsylvania, which had been less successful than 
he had anticipated, and was enraged by disappoint- 
ment. He, therefore, as soon as Kenton was brought 
into the village, began to give vent to his spleen by 
kicking and cuffing the prisoner, whom he eventually 
knocked down. He knew that Kenton had come 
from Kentucky, and this harsh treatment was be- 
stowed in part, it is thought, to frighten the prisoner 
into answers to such questions as he might wish to 
ask him. He then inquired how many men there were 
in Kentucky. Kenton could not answer this question, 
but ran over the names and ranks of such of the 
officers as he at the time recollected. 

"Do you know William Stewart?" asked Girty. 

''Perfectly well," replied Kenton; 4 'he is an old 
and intimate acquaintance." 

"Ah! what is your name, then?" 

"Simon Butler!" answered Kenton; and on the 
instant of this announcement, the hardened renegade 
caught his old comrade by the hand, lifted him from 
the ground, pressed him to his bosom, asked his for- 



504 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



giveness for having treated him so brutally, and prom- 
ised to do every thing in his power to save his life 
and set him at liberty. 

There have been various accounts of this inter- 
esting scene, and all agree in representing Girty 
as having been deeply affected and moved for the 
moment to penitence and tears. The foundation of 
McClung's details of the sketches made on this oc- 
casion was a manuscript dictated by Kenton himself, 
a number of years before his death. From this 
writer I therefore quote : 

"As soon as Girty heard the name, he became 
strongly agitated; and, springing from his seat, he 
threw his arms around Kenton's neck, and embraced 
him with much emotion. Then, turning to the as- 
sembled warriors, who remained astonished spec- 
tators of this extraordinary scene, he addressed them 
in a short speech, which the deep earnestness of his 
tone, and the energy of his gesture, rendered elo- 
quent. He informed them that the prisoner, whom 
they had just condemned to the stake, was his an- 
cient comrade and bosom friend; that they had trav- 
eled the same war-path, slept upon the same blanket, 
and dwelt in the same wigwam. He entreated them 
to have compassion on his feelings — to spare him the 
agony of witnessing the torture of an old friend, by 
the hands of his adopted brothers — and not to refuse 
so trifling a favor as the life of a white man, to the 
earnest intercession of one who had proved, by three 
years' faithful service, that he was sincerely and zeal- 
ously devoted to the cause of the Indians. 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



"The speech was listened to in unbroken silence. 
As soon as he had finished, several chiefs expressed 
their approbation by a deep guttural interjection, 
while others were equally as forward in making 
known their objections to the proposal. They urged 
that his fate had already been determined in a large 
and solemn council, and that they would be acting 
like squaws to change their minds every hour. They 
insisted upon the flagrant misdemeanors of Kenton ; 
that he had not only stolen their horses, but had 
flashed his gun at one of their young men ; that it 
was vain to suppose that so bad a man could ever 
become an Indian at heart, like their brother Girty; 
that the Kentuckians were all alike — very bad people 
— and ought to be killed as fast as they were taken ; 
and finally, they observed that many of their people 
had come from a distance, solely to assist at the tor- 
ture of the prisoner, and pathetically painted the dis- 
appointment and chagrin with which they would hear 
that all their trouble had been for nothing. 

''Girty listened with obvious impatience to the 
young warriors who had so ably argued against a 
reprieve ; and, starting to his feet, as soon as the 
others had concluded, he urged his former request 
with great earnestness. He briefly, but strongly 
recapitulated his own services, and the many and 
weighty instances of attachment he had given. He 
asked if he could be suspected of partiality to the 
whites? When had he ever before interceded for any 
of that hated race? Had he not brought seven scalps 
home with him from the last expedition ? and had he 



506 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



not submitted seven white prisoners that very evening 
to their discretion? Had he expressed a wish that a 
single one of the captives should be saved? This was 
his first, and should be his last request: for if they 
refused to him, what was never refused to the inter- 
cession of one of their natural chiefs, he would look 
upon himself as disgraced in their eyes, and con- 
sidered as unworthy of confidence. Which of their 
own natural warriors had been more zealous than 
himself? From what expedition had he ever shrunk? 
What white man had ever seen his back? Whose 
tomahawk had been bloodier than his? He would say 
no more. He asked it as a first and last favor, as an 
evidence that they approved of his zeal and fidelity, 
that the life of his bosom friend might be spared. 
Fresh speakers arose upon each side, and the debate 
was carried on for an hour and a half with great heat 
and energy. 

"Durinof the whole of this time, Kenton's feelings 
may readily be imagined. He could not understand 
a syllable of what was said. He saw that Girty spoke 
with deep earnestness, and that the eyes of the as- 
sembly were often turned upon himself with various 
expressions. He felt satisfied that his friend was 
pleading for his life, and that he was violently op- 
posed by a large part of the council. At length the 
war-club was produced and the final vote taken. Ken- 
ton watched its progress with thrilling emotion, which 
yielded to the most rapturous delight, as he per- 
ceived that those who struck the floor of the council- 
house were decidedly inferior in number to those 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 507 

0 

who passed it in silence. Having thus succeeded in 
his benevolent purpose, Girty lost no time in attend- 
ing to the comfort of his friend. He led him into 
his own wigwam, and from his own store gave him 
a pair of moccasins and leggins, a breech-cloth, a 
hat, a coat, a handkerchief for his neck, and another 
for his head." m 

In the course of a few weeks, and after passing 
through some further difficulties, in which the rene- 
gado again stood by him faithfully, Kenton was sent 
to Detroit, from which place he effected his escape, 
and returned to Kentucky. Girty remained with the 
Indians, retaining his old influence and continuing 
his old career ; and four years after the occurrences 
last detailed, in 1782, we find him a prominent 
figure in one of the blackest tragedies that have 
ever disgraced the annals of mankind. It is gener- 
ally believed by the old settlers and their immediate 
descendants that the influence of Girty, at this period, 
over the confederate tribes of the whole North-west 
was almost supreme. He had, it is true, no dele- 
gated authority, and of course was powerless as re- 
garded the final determination of any important 
measure ; but his voice was permitted in council 
among the chiefs, and his inflaming harangues were 
always listened to with delight by the young war- 
riors. Among the sachems and other head-men, he 
was what may well be styled "a power behind the 
throne;" and as it is well known that this unseen 
power is often "greater than the throne itself, " it 

may reasonably be presumed that Girty's influence 
30 



5 o8 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



was in reality all which it is supposed to have been. 
The horrible event alluded to above was the burning 
of Crawford ; and as a knowledge of this dark pas- 
sage in his life is necessary to a full development of 
the character of the renegado, an account of the in- 
cident, as much condensed as possible, will be given 
from the histories of the unfortunate campaign of that 
year. 

The frontier settlements of Pennsylvania and Vir- 
ginia had been greatly harassed by repeated attacks 
from bands of Indians under Girty and some of the 
Wyandot and Shawnee chiefs, during the whole 
period of the Revolutionary War; and, early in the 
spring of 1782, these savage incursions became so 
frequent and galling, and the common mode of 
fighting the Indians on the line of frontier, when 
forced to do so in self-defense, proved so ineffi- 
cient, that it was found absolutely necessary to carry 
the war into the country of the enemy. For this 
purpose an expedition against the Wyandot towns 
on the Sandusky was got up in May, and put under 
the command of Colonel William Crawford, a brave 
soldier of the Revolution. This force, amounting to 
upwards of four hundred mounted volunteers, com- 
menced its march through the wilderness north-west 
of the Ohio River, on the 25th of May, and reached 
the plains of the Sandusky on the 5th of June. 

A spirit of insubordination had manifested itself 
during the march, and 00 one occasion a small body 
of the volunteers abandoned the expedition and re- 
turned to their homes. The disaffection, which had 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



509 



prevailed on the march, continued to disturb the com- 
mander and divide the ranks after their arrival upon 
the very site (now deserted temporarily) of one of the 
enemy's principal towns ; and the officers, yielding to 
the wishes of their men, had actually determined, in 
a hasty council, to abandon the objects of the ex- 
pedition and return home if they did not meet with 
the Indians in large force in the course of another 
day's march. Scarcely had this determination been 
announced, however, when Colonel Crawford received 
intelligence from his scouts, of the near approach of 
a large body of the enemy. Preparations were at 
once made for the engagement, which almost instant- 
ly commenced. It was now about the middle of the 
afternoon ; and from this time till dusk the firing was 
hot and galling on both sides. About dark the Indians 
drew off their force, when the volunteers encamped 
upon the battle-ground, and slept on their arms. 

The next day the battle was renewed by small de- 
tachments of the enemy, but no general engagement 
took place. The Indians had suffered severely from 
the close firing which ensued upon their first attack, 
and were now manceuvering and awaiting the arrival of 
reinforcements. No sooner had night closed upon this 
madly spent day, than the officers assembled in coun- 
cil. They were unanimous in the opinion that the 
enemy, already as they thought more numerous than 
their own force, was rapidly increasing in numbers. 
They therefore determined, without a dissenting voice, 
to retreat that night, as rapidly as circumstances would 
permit. This resolution was at once announced to the 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



whole body of the volunteers, and the arrangements 
necessary to carry it into effect were immediately com- 
menced. By nine or ten o'clock every thing was in 
readiness — the troops properly disposed — and the re- 
treat begun in good order. " But unfortunately," says 
McClung, "they had scarcely moved an hundred 
paces, when the report of several rifles was heard in 
the rear, in the direction of the Indian encampment. 
The troops instantly became very unsteady. At length 
a solitary voice, in the front rank, called out that 
their design was discovered and that the Indians 
would soon be upon them. Nothing more was neces- 
sary. The cavalry were instantly broken; and, as 
usual, each man endeavored to save himself as he 
best could. A prodigious uproar ensued, which 
quickly communicated to the enemy that the white 
men had routed themselves, and that they had 
nothing to do but pick up stragglers.'' A scene of 
confusion and carnage now took place, which almost 
beggars description. All that night, and for the 
whole of the next day, the work of hunting out, run- 
ning down, and butchering, continued without inter- 
mission. But a relation of these sad occurrences 
does not properly belong to this narrative. The brief 
account of the expedition which has been given, was 
deemed necessary as an introduction to the event 
which now claims attention. 

Among the prisoners taken by the Indians were 
Colonel Crawford, the commander, and Dr. Knight, 
of Pittsburgh, who had gone upon the expedition as 
surgeon. On the ioth of June, these gentlemen were 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



marched towards the principal town of the Wyandots, 
where they arrived the next day. Here they beheld 
the mangled bodies of some of their late companions, 
and were doomed to see others, yet living, butchered 
before their eyes. Here, likewise, they saw Simon 
Girty, who appeared to take an infernal delight in 
gazing upon the dead bodies, and viewing the tort- 
ures which were inflicted upon the living. The feat- 
ures of this wretch, who had known Colonel Craw- 
ford at Fort Pitt, were clad in malicious smiles at 
beholding the brave soldier in his present strait; and 
towards Dr. Knight he conducted himself with inso- 
lence as well as barbarity. The colonel was soon 
stripped naked, painted black, and commanded to 
sit down by a large fire which was blazing close at 
hand; and in this situation he was surrounded by all 
the old women and young boys of the town, and 
severely beaten with sticks and clubs. While this was 
going on, the Indians were sinking a large stake in 
the ground, and building a circle of brushwood and 
hickory sticks around it, with a diameter of some 
twelve or fifteen feet. These preparations completed, 
Crawford's hands were tied firmly behind his back, 
and by his wrists he was bound to the stake. The 
pile was then fired in several places, and the quick 
flames curled into the air. Girty took no part in 
these operations, but sat upon his horse at a little 
distance, observing them with a malignant satisfac- 
tion. Catching his eye at the moment the pile was 
fired, Crawford inquired of the renegado, if the sav- 
ages really meant to burn him. Girty coldly answered 



512 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



"yes," and the colonel calmly resigned himself to 
his fate. The whole scene is minutely described in 
the several histories which have been written of this 
unfortunate expedition ; but the particulars are too 
horrible to be dwelt upon here. For more than two 
hours did the gallant soldier survive at that flame- 
girdled stake ; and during the latter half of this time 
he was put to every torture which savage ingenuity 
could dovise, and hellish vengeance execute. Once 
only did a word escape his lips. In the extremity 
of his agony he again caught the eye of Girty ; 
and he is reported to have exclaimed at this time, 
"Girty! Girty! shoot me through the heart. Do not 
refuse me! quick! — quick!" And it is said that the 
monster merely replied, ''Don't you see I have no 
gun, colonel!" then burst into a loud laugh and 
turned away. Crawford said no more ; he sunk re- 
peatedly beneath the pain -and suffocation which he 
endured, and was as often aroused by a new torture; 
but in a little while the "vital spark" fled, and the 
black and swollen body lay senseless at the foot of 
the stake. 

Dr. Knight was now removed from the spot, and 
placed under the charge of a Shawnee warrior to be 
taken to Chillicothe, where he was to share in the 
terrible fate of his late companion. The doctor, how- 
ever, was fortunate enough to effect his escape; and, 
after wandering through the wilderness for three 
weeks, in a state bordering on starvation, he reached 
Pittsburgh. He had been an eye-witness of all the 
tortures inflicted upon the colonel, and subsequently 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



513 



published a journal of the expedition ; and it is from 
this that the particulars have been derived of the sev- 
eral accounts which have been published of the burn- 
ing of Crawford. 

This was making a bloody commencement for the 
year 1782; but the Indians, flushed with their pres- 
ent success, and instigated by Girty and the British 
agents and traders at Detroit, soon determined that 
the summer should be signalized by still greater 
events. Runners were therefore immediately dis- 
patched from Sandusky to all the tribes of the North- 
west, for the purpose of getting up such an ex- 
pedition against the white settlements in Kentucky, 
as would annihilate them at a single blow. Girty 
was one of the principal promoters of this measure, 
and subsequently one of the most active agents in 
carrying it into execution. The rendezvous of the 
force raising for the expedition was appointed at Old 
Chillicothe, on Paint Creek. The gathering was 
silent but rapid ; the principal chiefs of the Ohio 
tribes exerted themselves untiringly; the agents of 
"His Majesty George the Third" lent a helping 
hand ; bands of the most distant tribes early took up 
their march for the rendezvous; and here, about the 
1st of August, met the allied army, consisting of 
Shawnees, Delawares, Cherokees, Wyandots, Potta- 
watomies, Miamies, etc., and detachment of British 
soldiers from Detroit. 

The entire force of the allied army of British and 
Indians, intended by Girty and the chiefs for the utter 
annihilation of the white settlements of Kentucky, 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



amounted to about six hundred fighting men ; and 
early in August, 1782, as has been stated, these ren- 
dezvoused at Old Chillicothe, on a tributary of the 
Scioto, to start upon the expedition from that point. 
The whole army was in excellent plight, well accou- 
tered for its purpose, variously painted and trimmed 
for war, and eager to commence its march. But of 
the various bands of Indians, several were now col- 
lected for the first time, and others most probably 
had never been upon an expedition of the kind con- 
templated. Some of the different tribes now united 
for a common purpose, moreover, had in all likeli- 
hood been arrayed against each other in savage war- 
fare, within recollection. Therefore, the more effect- 
ually to unite the entire mass in the present great 
and decisive measure, and the more thoroughly to 
influence the bad passions of the Indians against the 
pioneers, Girty had the army drawn up in circular 
form, and from an elevated position in the center 
made them a long and exciting speech. According 
to Marshall, "he represented Kentucky as the land 
of cane and of clover, that every year spontaneously 
sprang up and incessantly grew, without labor or 
care, to feed the buffalo, the elk, and the deer; where 
these, the beaver, the bear, and raccoon, were always 
fat, and where all the Indians from all the tribes, had 
a right, from time immemorial, to hunt and kill as 
many of these animals as they wanted, without being 
molested by white men, and of bringing away their 
skins with which to buy breech-cloths, and blankets 
to put on their backs ; and rum, to send down their 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



515 



throats to drive away the cold and make their hearts 
glad, after the fatigues of hunting or of war. That 
now the Long-Knives, — once the children of their 
great father over the big water, who had rebelled 
against him and held him at defiance, — had intruded 
themselves into these hunting-grounds ; were over- 
running the country, and calling it their own. That 
they were breaking the cane, treading down the 
clover, killing the buffalo, the deer, the bear, and the 
beaver, or driving them away from the land. That 
these new-comers were building houses and making 
roads where the Indian war-path used to be ; that 
they were plowing the ground and planting fruit- 
trees where very lately the cane stood and the 
clover blossomed ; that they were again measuring 
the land; and that, unless they were driven away or 
exterminated, the red men might bid adieu to the 
country — to the delicious meat with which it once 
abounded, and the skins and furs that purchased 
their clothing- and their rum, or fed their women and 
their children. 

"That the present was the time to do the great 
work, when the red brothers had assembled from the 
four winds of the sky, and were joined by their white 
brothers of the lake, and before the Long-Knives had 
made themselves too strong, as they soon would be, 
unless driven off or killed. Besides, count your num- 
bers — you are strong. Look at one another — the 
warrior sees himself in each other's eyes. Your 
guns are good, your flints sharp, your tomahawks 
keen, and your moccasins new. This is the time. 



5i6 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Even the Great Spirit, that gave you the country, 
and filled it with game for your use, has also given 
you health and strength for the enterprise. Be not 
wanting to yourselves, and he will insure you success. 
Moreover, every warrior may take as many scalps 
and prisoners as he pleases, and as much plunder as 
his cabin can hold ; that, after killing all the men, 
the women will be glad to become your wives, and 
raise up young warriors for you to present with the 
bow." 

During the delivery of this inflaming harangue, 
the renegado was repeatedly interrupted with the 
grunt of approbation, the terrific shriek, and the 
deep-toned war-whoop ; and at its close the rendez- 
vous was abandoned, and the allies started for the 
interior of Kentucky, with vengeance upon their lips, 
and hell in their hearts. Their gathering had been 
so secret, and their subsequent movements so well 
managed, that when, about day-break on the 15th of 
August, they suddenly appeared before "Bryant's 
Station," (situated a few miles from the spot on 
which now stands the city of Lexington,) the wary 
woodsmen were completely taken by surprise. "Bry- 
ant's Station" at this time consisted of some thirty- 
five or forty cabins, ranged in two parallel rows upon 
a slight eminence on the southern bank of the Elk- 
horn, with an effective force of about fifty men. The 
cabins were connected by strong palisades, where 
they did not otherwise join, and terminated by a 
bastion at either end of the lines. These bastions 
were constructed of heavy-notched logs, in the 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



517 



block-house form, and well supplied with loop-holes. 
Fortunately, the garrison had spent most of the night 
of the 14th in making preparations for an early start 
the next morning for "Hoy's Station," news of the 
anticipated investment of which had just reached 
"Bryant's." When, therefore, upon throwing open the 
gates at daylight, they found themselves surrounded 
by an Indian force and hotly attacked, the} were not 
unprepared for immediate and vigorous defense. 
The gates were at once reclosed, the bastions well 
manned, two fearless woodmen dispatched to Lex- 
ington and other stations to give the alarm and sum- 
mon assistance, and every thing put in proper order 
to resist their assailants. It was discovered, after a 
time, that the attacking party was but small, and 
that the main body of the Indians lay in ambush 
on the opposite side of the fort. After a few hasty 
volleys, the attacking party retired. It was then well 
surmised in the Station, that this small body was in- 
tended as a decoy, in pursuit of which the Indians 
hoped to draw out the garrison, when their main force 
would quit its concealment, rush into the fort, and easily 
overcome its inmates and complete its destruction. And 
this was the plan which had been devised by Girty ; and 
which, but for the experience of the frontiersmen in 
Indian wile and stratagem, would have rendered the 
Station a bloodless conquest to the savages, and its 
women and children an easy prey. But the manceuver 
failed of its intended and expected effect. Only twelve 
or thirteen of the Young men of the garrison were sent 
out in pursuit of the retiring party. Yet no sooner 



5 : S THE BACK-WO 1 1 5 MEN. 

did Girty see these depart, and hear their tiring at 
some distance trom the fort, than, supposing his 
stratagem had been fully successful, he srave the si?- 
nal. when some rive hundred Indians soran=r from 
their ambush, and rushed toward the Station, toma- 
hawk in hand. This was an awful moment for the 
small handful of men who now constituted the gar- 
rison, and for their trembling families: cut, nomine- 
es 

daunted, the brave frontiersmen poured a few quick 
hot volleys into that moving mass of swarthy forms, 
and as effectually as suddenly stayed its progress. 
The Indians, meeting with such a reception where 
they had anticipated no opposition, halted, struck 
with consternation, recoiled a moment, then snatched 
up their dead and wounded, and with wild cries in- 
stantly disaopeared in the dense forests on the rivht 
and left. The fearless youngsters who had gone in 
pursuit of the decoy party, returned in a few minutes 
without loss ; and when they entered the fort, there 
was much rejoicing among the garrison at the success 
of its first effort. 

Tine Indians soon renewed the attack, and kept up 
the sie-e with much energy, aiming their rides at the 
loop-holes of the bastions, and between the palisades 
which connected the cabins, and springing burning 
arrows upon the roofs of the various buildings, in the 
hope to fire them, till about two o'clock in the aiter- 
noon. when occurred an incident which for a time 
drew them off. This was the approach of the re- 
inforcements which had been sent for early in the 
morning. These consisted of sixteen horsemen and 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



519 



between forty and fifty men on foot. As they were 
seen at some considerable distance, hastening toward 
the Station, an attempt was made by the Indians to 
cut them off, which in part succeeded. The approach 
to the fort, upon which they were just entering when 
first discovered, was by a lane bounded on one side 
by a field of corn, and on the other by thick woods. 
Along either side of this the Indians instantly scat- 
tered themselves, and, as the reinforcements came 
up, fired from their ambush. Their first discharge 
was not effective. The horsemen being well-mounted, 
put spurs to their steeds on the instant of the fire, 
and were all borne safely into the fort. The footmen 
were then attacked with gun and tomahawk, and, of 
course, put to flight. They managed so well, how- 
ever, that notwithstanding the immense number of 
their assailants, but three or four were killed and as 
many others wounded. Girty was active in the 
skirmish, and joined in the pursuit of the routed foot- 
men. He at one time pressed so closely upon a 
stout young fellow from Lexington, that the wood- 
man saw no chance of escape but by the death of 
his pursuer. He therefore wheeled suddenly, and 
discharged his rifle with a quick aim, when the rene- 
gado fell. This scene was witnessed by a number 
of the foremost Indians, and at once put a stop to 
the pursuit, which had been continued nearly an 
hour. It was soon found that Girty was only stunned 
by the shock and the fall. The bullet had entered 
and lodged in his shot-pouch, which happened to be 
well filled at the time, and also to contain a piece of 



520 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



very thick sole-leather, and his life was thus pre- 
served. 

The Indians returned to the siege somewhat dis- 
pirited, and kept it up till toward sunset, but without 
making any impression upon the fort. Their loss in 
the morning had been severe — their wounded were 
numerous — they knew the alarm would be rapidly 
spread by the footmen who had been driven back, 
and felt convinced there would be a rapid gathering, 
and that the united force of all the stations would 
soon be down upon them like a whirlwind. In this 
temper, the fire of the Indians slackened a little be- 
fore sunset, and the principal chiefs proposed to raise 
the siege. To this, Girty, who had taken so very 
active a part in setting the expedition on foot, 
warmly objected. But the chiefs were nearly unan- 
imous as to the propriety of decamping, and per- 
sisted in an abandonment of the enterprise. At this 
moment it struck Girty to ask a parley with the gar- 
rison, that he might enter into negotiations for its 
surrender. The whole Indian force was therefore at 
once drawn off, that he might without delay attempt 
this new expedient. 

An anecdote connected with this parley, as given 
by McClung, is amusing, and well worth repeating 
here: "Near one of the bastions was a large stump, 
to which Girty crept on his hands and knees, and 
from which he hailed the garrison. ' He highly com- 
mended their courage, but assured them that further 
resistance would be madness, as he had six hundred 
warriors with him, and was in hourly expectation of 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 52 I 

reinforcements, with artillery, which would instantly 
blow their cabins into the air; that if the fort was 
taken by storm, as it certainly would be when their 
cannon arrived, it would be impossible for him to 
save their lives; but if they surrendered at once, he 
gave them his honor that not a hair of their heads 
should be injured. He told them his name, inquired 
whether they knew him, and assured them that they 
might safely trust to his honor.' The garrison list- 
ened in silence to his speech, and many of them 
looked very blank at the mention of artillery, as the 
Indians had on one occasion brought cannon with 
them, and destroyed two stations. But a young man 
by the name of Reynolds, highly distinguished for 
courage, energy, and a frolicksome gaiety of temper, 
perceiving the effect of Girty's speech, took upon 
himself to reply to it. To Girty's inquiry of ' whether 
the garrison knew him?' Reynolds replied, ' that he 
was very well known; that he himself had a worth- 
less dog, to which he had given the name of "Simon 
Girty," in consequence of his striking resemblance to 
the man of that name. That if he had either artillery 
or reinforcements, he might bring them up and be 

d d. That if either himself, or any of the naked 

rascals with him, found their way into the fort, they 
would disdain to use their cams against them, but 
would drive them out again with switches, of which 
they had collected a great number for that purpose 
alone ; and finally, he declared that they also expected 
reinforcements; that the whole country was marching 
to their assistence, and that if Girty and his gang of 



522 THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 

murderers remained twenty-four hours longer before 
the fort, their scalps would be found drying in the 
sun upon the roofs of their cabins.' Girty took great 
offense at the tone and language of the young Ken- 
tuckian, and retired with an expression of sorrow for 
the inevitable destruction which awaited them on the 
following morning. He quickly rejoined the chiefs, 
and instant preparations were made for raising the 
siege. The night passed away in uninterrupted tran- 
quillity, and at daylight in the morning the Indian 
camp was found deserted. Fires were still burning 
brightly, and several pieces of meat were left upon 
their roasting-sticks, from which it was inferred that 
they had retreated a short time before daylight." 

This was the same body of Indians which, only 
four days afterward, (August 19, 1782,) engaged and 
routed the Kentuckians at the Lower Blue Licks — 
the place of that sanguinary conflict in which was 
spilt some of the best blood in the West, which de- 
prived the stations of several of their bravest and 
most intelligent officers, and carried mourning into 
the whole of the infant settlements of Kentucky. 
What part Girty bore in this conflict is not known ; 
but from his agency in getting up the present ex- 
pedition against the frontier towns, his reluctance to 
raise the siege of " Bryant's Station," his bitter ani- 
mosity against his foresworn countrymen, and his 
known character for cunning and bravery, I think it 
more than probable that he planned the manner of re- 
treat from " Bryant's," advised the delay at the Licks, 
suggested the ambuscade in the two ravines which 



GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 



523 



skirted the ridge upon which the Kentuckians so 
fearlessly but rashly rushed, and shared in the havoc 
of the fierce and bloody battle which ensued. 

Kentucky was never again invaded by any formi- 
dable body of her enemies. The unsuccessful attempt 
of Girty and his confederates upon 4,1 Bryant's Station," 
taught the Indians that they could expect nothing by 
means of the siege ; and the alacrity with which re- 
inforcements, on this occasion, were brought to the 
assistance of the place invested, showed them that 
while they were merely harassing an enemy within, 
they were themselves liable at any moment to be sur- 
rounded and shot down by an enemy without. Even 
in the result of the battle of the nineteenth, they 
found but little cause to rejoice ; for their own loss 
was as severe as that of the Kentuckians, and they 
knew very well that the force which they had con- 
quered had been hastily collected, and did not by any 
means comprise the strength of the whites. Upon 
the dispersion of the Indians after this battle, Girty 
returned to his residence at the principal Sandusky 
town, where he was an extensive trader. 

It was not to be expected that such a man as 
Simon Girty could, for a great many years, maintain 
his influence among a people headed by chiefs and 
warriors like Black-Hoof, Buckongahelas, Little Tur- 
tle, Tarhe, and so forth. Accordingly we find the 
ascendency of the renegado at its height about the 
period of the expedition above named ; and not long 
after this it began to wane, when, discontent and dis- 
appointment inducing him to give way to his natural 



524 THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 

appetites, he partook freely of all intoxicating liquors, 
and in the course of a few years became a beastly 
drunkard. It is believed that he at one time 
seriously meditated an abandonment of the Indians, 
and a return to the whites ; and an anecdote related 
by McClung, in his notice of the emigration to Ken- 
tucky, by way of the Ohio River, in the year 1785, 
would seem to give color to this opinion. But if the 
intention ever was seriously indulged, it is most likely 
that fear of the treatment he would receive on beino; 
recognized in the frontier settlements, on account 
of his many bloody enormities, prevented him from 
carrying it into effect. He remained with the Indians 
in Ohio till Wayne's victory, when he forsook the 
scenes of his former influence and savage greatness, 
and established himself somewhere in Upper Canada. 
He fought in the bloody engagement which termi- 
nated in the defeat and butchery of St. Clair's army 
in 1 79 1, and was at the battle of the Fallen Timber, 
in 1794; but he had no command in either of those 
engagements, and was not at this time a man of any 
particular influence. 

In Canada, Girty was something of a trader, but 
gave himself up almost wholly to intoxicating drinks, 
and became a perfect sot. At this time he suffered 
much from rheumatism and other diseases; but he 
had grown a great braggart, and amidst his severest 
pains he would entertain his associates, and all who 
were willing to listen, with stories of his past prowess 
and cruelty. He had now the most exaggerated 
notions of the honor attaching to the character of a 



GIRTV, THE RENEGADE. 



525 



great warrior; and for some years before his death 
his constantly-expressed wish was, that he might 
find an opportunity of signalizing his last years by 
some daring action, and die upon the field of battle. 
Whether sincere in this wish or not, the opportunity 
was afforded him. He fought with the Indians at 
Proctor's Defeat on the Thames, in 181 4, and was 
among those who were here cut down and trodden 
under foot by Colonel Johnson's regiment of mounted 
Kentuckians. 



1 



THE DOOMED WYANDOT. 



By Otway Curry. 

IN the evening of the first day of June, in the year 
1810, there came six Wyandot warriors to the 
house of Mr. Benjamin Sells, on the Scioto River, 
about twelve miles above the spot where now stands 
the city of Columbus. They were equipped in the 
most warlike manner, and exhibited, during their stay, 
an unusual degree of agitation. Having ascertained 
that an old Wyandot chief, for whom they had been 
making diligent inquiry, was then encamped at a 
distance of about two miles farther up the west bank 
of the river, they expressed a determination to put 
him to death, and immediately went off in the direc- 
tion of his lodge. 

These facts were communicated, early in the ensu- 
ing morning, to Mr. John Sells, who now* resides in 
the village of Dublin, on the Scioto, about two miles 
from the place where the doomed Wyandot met his 
fate. Mr. Sells immediately proceeded up the river, 
on horseback, in quest of the Indians. He soon ar- 
rived at the lodge, which he found situated in a grove 
of sugar-trees, close to the bank of the river. The 
six warriors were seated in consultation, at the dis- 
tance of a few rods from the lodge. The old chief 

(526) *i8 3 8. 



THE DOOMED WYANDOT. 



527 



was with them, evidently in the character of a pris- 
oner. His arms were confined by a small cord, but 
he sat with them without any manifestation of uneasi- 
ness. A few of the neighboring white men were 
likewise there, and a gloomy-looking Indian who had 
been the companion of the chief, but now kept en- 
tirely aloof — sitting sullenly in the camp. Mr. Sells 
approached the Indians, and found them earnestly 
engaged in debate. A charge of "witchcraft" had 
been made, at a former time, against the chief, by 
some of his captors, whose friends had been de- 
stroyed, as they believed, by means of his evil 
powers. This crime, according to the immemorial 
usage of the tribe, involved a forfeiture of life. The 
chances of a hunter's life had brought the old man to 
his present location, and his pursuers had sought him 
out, in order that they might execute upon him the 
sentence of their law. 

The council was of two or three hours' duration. 
The accusing party spoke alternately, with much cer- 
emony, but with evident bitterness of feeling. The 
prisoner, in his replies, was eloquent though dispas- 
sionate. Occasionally a smile of scorn would appear 
for an instant on his countenance. At the close of 
the consultation it was ascertained that they had re- 
affirmed the sentence of death which had before been 
passed upon the chief. Inquiry having been made by 
some of the white men with reference to their ar- 
rangements, the captain of the six warriors pointed 
to the sun, and signified to them that the execution 
would take place at one o'clock in the afternoon. 



528 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Mr. Sells went to the captain and asked him what 
the chief had done. "Very bad Indian," he replied, 
4 'make good Indian sick — make horse sick — make 
die — very bad chief." Mr. Sells then made an effort 
to persuade his white friends to rescue the victim of 
superstition from his impending fate, but to no pur- 
pose. They were then in a frontier situation, en- 
tirely open to the incursions of the northern tribes, 
and were consequently unwilling to subject them- 
selves to the displeasure of their savage visitors by 
any interference with their operations. He then 
proposed to release the chief by purchase — offering 
to the captain for that purpose a fine horse, of the 
value of three hundred dollars. " Let me him see," 
said the Indian. The horse was accordingly brought 
forward and closely examined; and so much were 
they staggered by this proposition that they again 
repaired to their place of consultation, and remained 
in council a considerable length of time before it was 
finally rejected. 

The conference was again terminated, and five of 
the Indians began to amuse themselves with running, 
jumping, and other athletic exercises. The captain 
took no part with them. When again inquired of as , 
to the time of execution, he pointed to the sun, as 
before, and indicated the hour of four. The prisoner 
then walked slowly to his camp, partook of a dinner 
of jerked venison, washed and arrayed himself in his 
best apparel, and afterwards painted his face. His 
dress was very rich, his hair gray, and his whole 
appearance graceful and commanding. At his re- 



THE DOOMED WYANDOT. 



5^9 



quest the whole company drew around him at the 
lodge. He had observed the exertions made by Mr. 
Sells in his behalf, and now presented to him a writ- 
ten paper, with a request that it might be read to the 
company. It was a recommendation, signed by Gov- 
ernor Hull, and in compliance with the request of the 
prisoner it was fixed and left upon the side of a large 
tree, at a short distance from the wigwam. 

The hour of execution being close at hand, the 
chief shook hands in silence with the surrounding 
spectators. On coming to Mr. Sells, he appeared 
much moved, grasped his hand warmly, spoke 
for a few minutes in the Wyandot language, and 
pointed to the heavens. He then turned from the 
wigwam, and, with a voice of surpassing strength and 
melody, commenced the chant of the death-song. 
He was followed closely by the Wyandot warriors, 
all timing with their slow and measured march the 
music of his wild and melancholy dirge. The white 
men were all likewise silent followers in that strange 
procession. At the distance of seventy or eighty 
yards from the camp they came to a shallow grave, 
which, unknown to the white men, had been pre- 
viously prepared by the Indians. Here the old man 
knelt down, and in an elevated but solemn tone of 
voice addressed his prayer to the Great Spirit. As 
soon as he had finished, the captain of the Indians 
knelt beside him and prayed in a similar manner. 
Their prayers, of course, were spoken in the Wyan- 
dot tongue. When they arose, the captain was again 
accosted by Mr. Sells, who insisted that if they were 



53° 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



inflexible in the determination to shed blood, they 
should at least remove their victim beyond the limits 
of the white settlements. " No," said he, very sternly, 
and with evident displeasure, " no — good Indian fraid 
— he no go with this bad man — mouth give fire in 
the dark night — good Indian fraid — he no go! — My 
friend," he continued, "me tell you — white man bad 
man, white man kill him — Indian say nothing." 

Finding all interference futile, Mr. Sells was at 
length compelled, reluctantly, to abandon the old 
man to his fate. After a few moments, delay he 
again sank down upon his knees and prayed, as he 
had done before. When he had ceased praying he 
still continued in a kneeling position. All the rifles 
belonging to the party had been left at the wigwam. 
There was not a weapon of any kind to be seen at 
the place of execution, and the spectators were con- 
sequently unable to form any conjecture as to the 
mode of procedure which the executioners had de- 
termined on for the fulfillment of their purpose. 
Suddenly one of the warriors drew from beneath the 
skirts of his capote a keen, bright tomahawk, walked 
rapidly up behind the chieftain, brandished the weapon 
on high for a single moment, and then struck with 
his whole strength. The blow descended directly 
upon the crown of the head, and the victim immedi- 
ately fell prostrate. After he had lain awhile in the 
agonies of death, the Indian captain directed the 
attention of the white men to the drops of sweat 
which were gathering upon his neck and face ; re- 
marking with much apparent exultation that it was 



THE DOOMED WYANDOT. 



531 



conclusive proof of the sufferer's guilt. Again the 
executioner advanced, and, with the same weapon, 
inflicted two or three additional and heavy blows. 

As soon as life was entirely extinct, the body was 
hastily buried, with all its apparel and decorations; 
and the assemblage dispersed. The Wyandots re- 
turned immediately to their hunting-grounds, and the 
white men to their homes. The murdered chief was 
known among the whites by the name of Leatherlips. 
Around the spot where his bones repose the towering 
forest has now given place to the grain field ; and the 
soil above him has for years been furrowed and re- 
furrowed by the plowshare. 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



By Otway Curry. 

SAMUEL DAVIS was born at Litchfield, Con- 
necticut, in the year 1763. He was initiated into 
the mysteries of a soldier's life by two years' service 
in the army of the Revolution, in the time of his boy- 
hood; arid his first hostile meeting with an armed 
enemy was in the night-skirmish held with a party 
of troops from a large armed vessel, who strove to 
effect a landing in their boats, at the time of the 
descent of the British upon West Haven. Having 
subsequently served an apprenticeship to the gold- 
smith's business, he was persuaded, at the age of 
twenty-one years, to cross the mountains, under the 
expectation of finding profitable employment in the 
manufacture and sale of trinkets, etc., for the use of 
the Indians in the region of the Ohio. On his arrival 
at Fort Pitt, it became evident that this scheme was 
futile, and he was perplexed to know what course to 
pursue for the purpose of procuring means of sub- 
sistence. Being in good health, uncommonly active, 
and an unerring marksman, he at length determined 
to attempt a hunting expedition down the river, and 
immediately set off, equipped with a good ''buffalo- 
gun" and other necessaries. 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 533 

At the mouth of Guyandotte he fell in with a 
couple of hunters, whose names were Freehart and 
McCulloch, and proceeded, in company with them, a 
considerable distance up that stream. While sitting, 
one morning, at their camp-fire, they discovered an 
old she-bear, looking down at them from the hollow 
of a large tree, the top of which had previously been 
broken off. All their efforts to frighten her from her 
lodgment proved unsuccessful; and his companions, 
having refused to climb, Davis ascended a tree 
which grew immediately beside that in which the 
bear was sheltered. As soon as he attained a posi- 
tion sufficiently elevated to enable him to see her 
distinctly, she greeted him with a sullen growl, but 
obstinately refused to abandon her lair. He then 
drew up his rifle, by means of a grape-vine, and shot 
her through the foot. At this she again growled furi- 
ously, but still refused to leave her position. At the 
second discharge a ball was lodged in her body, and 
she immediately went down the tree with great rapid- 
ity. On the ground she was attacked by four large 
dogs, and was soon compelled to ascend the same 
tree on which Davis was posted. As she came furi- 
ously up, he called to Freehart to shoot her, instead 
of which he threw himself down upon the ground, 
rolling over and over, and laughing obstreperously. 
Davis now determined, as a last resort, to defend 
himself by thrusting his gun down the bear's throat 
as she approached him. At the critical moment, 
however, when she almost reached him, she was shot 
dead by McCulloch. 



534 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



On the day following Davis had an opportunity of 
turning the laugh on Freehart. The latter had 
grown weary of walking through the woods in quest 
of game, and had seated himself in a thicket, with 
the intention of calling up deer, by imitating the 
bleat of the fawn. A very large and fierce bear, 
which happened to be within hearing, was attracted 
by the sound of his bleating, and came running to 
the spot. When the bear was quite close to him, 
he took deliberate aim, and drew trigger; but to his 
surprise and consternation, his gun snapped. He fled 
at the top of his speed, and was closely pursued by / 
the enraged animal. So closely was the race con- 
tested for a considerable distance, that his leathern 
gaiters were torn to tatters, and his legs dreadfully 
lacerated by the bear's claws. Finding himself at 
length exhausted, he determined to turn and defend 
himself, by using his gun as a club. As he turned 
round, the bear stood up on its hinder legs, to seize 
him, and he bethought himself that it would be well 
to try his recreant gun-lock once more. He accord- 
ingly overhauled the lock, and again drew trigger. 
The piece fired promptly and clearly, and the bear 
fell dead. 

About this time there were several other hunters 
in the vicinity of the mouth of Guyandotte. Among 
these were Jeremiah Kendall and Lewis Weitzel. 
Kendall had procured a flat-boat, for the purpose of 
transporting a cargo of buffalo-meat, venison, etc., to 
New Orleans ; intending to procure a supply during 
his passage down the Ohio and Mississippi. He em- 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 535 

ployed Davis, Weitzel, and another, in the capacity 
of hunters, and they dropped leisurely down the 
stream, stopping from time to time at the best 
hunting-grounds. Below the falls of Ohio they ob- 
served a fallen tree, the roots of which remained 
steadfastly fixed in the bank, while the main trunk 
and top extended outwards into the river. Here 
they concluded to stop for the night; and the boat 
was made fast to the extremity of the tree-top. On 
the shore a party of Indians were encamped, and 
Weitzel went out along the body of the tree to visit 
them, in spite of the remonstrances of his friends. 
On attempting to return to the boat he was violently 
seized, and detained as a prisoner. In the morning 
there was a good deal of altercation between the 
boatmen and the savages, the former resolutely de- 
manding the release of the prisoner, and the latter 
obstinately refusing it. After a very considerable 
delay his ransom was effected, and a skirmish pre- 
vented by the payment of a quantity of powder and 
lead. 

On the next day they discovered the Indians in 
pursuit. They approached in six large and crowded 
canoes. When distant about one hundred yards, 
they were hailed by Kendall, who stood upon deck, 
and ordered them to keep off, threatening to fire at 
them if they came nearer. After a momentary con- 
sultation, they again approached, more rapidly than 
before. It was now apparent that they had deter- 
mined to attack the boat, and that there was no time 
to be lost. In the hold there was a blunderbuss, of 



536 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



such uncommon size that it had been mounted can- 
non-wise. This was hastily loaded with a quantity 
of powder, and thirty-six rifle-balls, and discharged 
at the canoes. The bullets splashed in the water 
among them, without doing any damage ; but the 
Indians were so much discouraged at the unusual 
report of the blunderbuss, and the warm reception 
which evidently awaited them on board the boat, 
that they precipitately withdrew, and left the white 
men to pursue their voyage without further moles- 
tation. 

Proceeding downward to the Mississippi, they found 
that river overflowing its banks in all directions, so 
that their hunting operations were restricted to the 
bluffs which are occasionally found skirting the left 
bank. At one of these Davis and another young 
man belonging to the boat, went out in quest of 
buffalo. Having succeeded in killing several, they 
returned to the river, and found that the boat had 
left them to shift for themselves. At the uppermost 
extremity of the bluff a large quantity of drift-wood 
had been piled up by the water in its outward flow. 
Out of this pile they selected a sufficient number of 
logs for the construction of a raft. This was effected 
by strongly lashing them together. A couple of good 
poles were procured, for the purpose of managing the 
raft in its progress ; and they both took post upon it, 
one forward and the other aft. As soon as it began 
to swing round the point, it was nearly capsized by 
the force of the boiling current, and Davis's compan- 
ion was so much frightened that he sprang ashore. 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



537 



The raft immediately righted — shot with headlong 
rapidity along the current, to the lower extremity of 
the bluff, and from thence was carried off, by the over- 
flowing waters, through the forest, in the direction 
of the immense swamps. To return to the bluff he 
found absolutely impossible, although his friend, in 
the extremity of his distress, kept calling to him to do 
so as long as his voice could be heard. With great 
difficulty he succeeded in forcing his raft through the 
timber, in an oblique downward direction, back to 
the main current of the river, in which at the next 
bend he encountered a strong head-w r ind, and was 
thrown by the waves upon the head of an inundated 
cotton-wood island. The raft was turned half over 
by the stream, and remained with one end standing 
out perpendicularly, and the other wedged immova- 
bly among the drift-wood. 

He then crawled off into the island, and remained 
upon the floating timber till night — all night and all 
the ensuing day. The second night he heard some 
fiat-boats passing by; he hailed them, and told his 
situation; but the boatmen, believing him to be an 
imposter, and his story a fabrication intended to de- 
coy them into the hands of robbers and murderers, 
told him, with an oath, to stay where he was and 
starve. In the morning, alternately walking and 
swimming, he made his way to the other end of the 
island, where he discovered the end of a small canoe 
protruding perpendicularly from the drift. This, after 
long and laborious exertion, he finally extricated ; but 
all his efforts to propel it, against the current, to the 



538 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



place where he had left his raft, were ineffectual ; and 
he was, consequently, obliged again to traverse the 
island, swimming and walking alternately as before, 
in order to reclaim his gun. Having effected this, 
he embarked in the canoe and proceeded downward. 
Six miles below, he found the flat-boat lying to ; and 
was informed by Kendall that his sudden departure 
from the bluff had been occasioned by Weitzel, who, 
on his return from a short excursion in the woods, 
had falsely reported that a large party of hostile In- 
dians was approaching. When Davis overtook the 
boat, he had been without sustenance three days. 
His friend, who had been left on the bluff, was never 
afterward heard of by any of the party. 

After staying one year at New Madrid, Davis set 
out on his return, in company with twenty others. 
In a boat, belonging to Dr. Waters, of New Madrid, 
they traveled a considerable distance up the Cumber- 
land River; and from thence, taking what is called 
the " Green River route," they proceeded to Lime- 
stone (now Maysville), on the Ohio. During this 
journey they came to a house on Green River, the 
occupants of which had just been murdered by Indi- 
ans; and they had proceeded but a short distance, 
when the same party were discovered near the path, 
lying in ambush for stragglers. They were overawed, 
however, by the strength of the present party, and 
fled, leaving behind them all their booty. 

After his return to Limestone, Davis went with 
another hunter on a trapping excursion up the Wa- 
bash. At that time there were forty or fifty cabins 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



539 



in the village at Post Vincent (now Vincennes) of 
uniform construction. The walls were made by dig- 
ging trenches, and planting pickets in the ground; 
on these were fixed the plates and rafters, and the 
roofing consisted of smoothly-spread layers of bark. 

At the end of their trapping season they descended 
the Wabash in a canoe. As they approached a rapid 
place in the river, called the grand chain, they saw six 
pirogues lying at the shore, immediately below the 
rapids ; these pirogues had been engaged in trans- 
porting a cargo of flour from the falls of Ohio to Post 
Vincent. Their movements had been dogged by a 
party of Indians, whose runners had concentrated a 
force of about three hundred at the grand chain, 
where an attack was made while the pirogues were 
laboring up the rapids, and the entire party of white 
men, thirty in number, were instantaneously massa- 
cred. When Davis and his companion reached the 
spot, they were lying about in every direction, some 
in the water, some in the pirogues, and some on 
shore at the water's edge, all bleeding freshly, and 
horribly mangled. The Indians had removed the 
barrels of flour, etc., to their fires, a few rods distant 
from the top of the bank, and were so intently en- 
gaged in boisterous merriment and feasting that the 
two hunters passed by the scene of slaughter undis- 
covered, and made their way in safety to the Ohio. 

Returning to Limestone, Davis associated himself 
several years with a trapper and hunter of the name 
of William Campbell. Shortly after St. Clair's de- 
feat they undertook a trapping expedition up the Big 



54° 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Sandy River. Embarking at Limestone, with their 
guns, beaver traps, etc., in a single canoe, they 
started up the Ohio, and met, before leaving it, a 
detachment of troops descending in flat-boats to Fort 
Washington. Continuing their up-stream voyage, 
they at length reached the forks of the Big Sandy. 
Taking the left fork, they proceeded, dragging their 
canoe over the ripples or shallows, until .they were 
alarmed by seeing the water, a short distance ahead, 
boiling and foaming in a very singular manner. This 
place was found to be the location of a spring, along 
with whose waters was discharged a quantity of in- 
flammable gas, which, on the application of a blaz- 
ing torch, took fire, and burned with a strong flame. 
From this point they returned, and ascended the right 
fork of the river to the vicinity of a place called Har- 
mar's Station. Here, having set their beaver traps, 
they encamped upon a sand-bar. Just at this time a 
party of Indians, thirty-six in number, had made an 
unsuccessful attack on Harmar's Station. They suc- 
ceeded, however, in getting one prisoner and a num- 
ber of horses. In the skirmish at the Station one of 
the Indians had been so badly wounded that he was 
unable to travel with the rest, and he was accordingly 
committed to a chosen party of six, to be carried down 
the river in a canoe. To this party was likewise en- 
trusted the keeping of Donalds, the prisoner. Per- 
ceiving a light as they were floating downward in the 
night, they landed on the sand-bar, and marched up 
to the fire where Davis and his companion were lying 
asleep. Having ranged themselves around, with up- 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



541 



lifted tomahawks, they awoke the sleepers by a sud- 
den exclamation. In the surprise of the moment, 
Campbell threw up his hand against the edge of a 
tomahawk, by which it was cut very severely. No 
other injury was sustained by either. They were 
secured with ropes formed of raw strips of buffalo 
hide, and compelled to pole the canoes down stream, 
the Indians beating them severely from time to time. 

Arriving at Hanging Rock, on the Ohio River, 
they dragged their canoes, for concealment, into the 
mouth of a small stream, and prepared to encamp. 
The rain fell constantly. Four of the Indians went 
away to procure bark for the erection of a shelter, 
while two remained to take care of their wounded 
comrade and the prisoners. The wounded Indian sat 
with his back against a tree, and a gun by his side; 
the others were sitting near him, with guns beside 
them also. Davis and Campbell were tied with 
thongs, and Donalds was untied and compelled to 
officiate as cook. The prisoners were separated by 
the Indians, and were so near them as to be within 
reach of their tomahawks. Davis put his finger to 
the handle of a tomahawk, and signified to Campbell 
that they should seize the weapons of the Indians and 
assail them. The signal was observed by Donalds, 
who placed himself in a suitable position to assist; 
but Campbell shook his head. The movement was 
repeated by Davis, until it was observed by the Indi- 
ans, who immediately called in their companions and 
bound the prisoners more securely. They now aban- 
doned their encampment, and went on through the 



542 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



rain, and in pitchy darkness, until they came to a 
small fissure or cave, in which Davis's keeper com- 
pelled him to lie down. His rope had been taken 
off, and he determined to make his escape in the 
night by stealing quietly away from his keeper, who 
was lying close by his side. When he supposed his 
guard to be asleep, he arose softly and stepped out; 
but, just as he was about to dash off into the dark- 
ness and run for life, the Indian arose and stopped 
him ; he was compelled to lie down and remain until 
morning. As soon as it was light he discovered, to 
his consternation, that he was on the very edge of 
an immense precipice, where he would inevitably 
have been dashed to atoms if he had not been foiled 
in his intention of running away. 

They now returned to the camp which they had 
abandoned the evening before, and posted a sentry 
on the river bank, who soon came in with the infor- 
mation that he had heard flat-boats coming down; 
and Davis was ordered, on pain of instant death, to 
decoy them to the shore. To his great joy, however, 
no boats appeared. In three days the main party of 
Indians came over, with about forty horses, and the 
whole company set off together and traveled up the 
Little Scioto. At sundown they halted, and placed 
the prisoners on a log, with a sufficient guard. The 
rest then went away about fifty yards and held a short 
consultation ; after which they ran about through the 
woods and collected a great quantity of brushwood, 
which they piled together in an open space and set 
on fire. Around this blazing pile they performed the 



INDIAN SCALP DANCE. 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



545 



war-dance, with the most extravagant gestures and 
frightful yells. The party was composed of Dela- 
wares, Pottawatomies, Piankeshaws, and Shawnees. 
After the conclusion of the war-dance, Davis was in- 
formed by his guide that he and Donalds were to 
be delivered over to the Pottawatomies and burned, 
and he therefore determined to attempt an escape at 
all hazards. All the next day, while traveling, he 
watched for an opportunity to break away in the 
thickets, but was so closely guarded that he found 
it impossible. The prisoners were treated by the 
Indians with their accustomed cruelty. They were 
heavily laden, and driven along, with kicks and blows, 
like beasts. They were invariably driven through 
the streams, which were greatly swollen by the re- 
cent rains, while the Indians rode through upon the 
horses, or passed over upon logs. The whole party 
were pinched with hunger, because they were too 
much afraid of pursuit to wait until the hunters could 
procure game. A turkey, which happened to alight 
sufficiently near to the line of march, was shot, and 
divided among the whole number of Indians and pris- 
oners. A very small scrap of the entrails, which had 
been wound around the end of a stick and half 
roasted in the ashes, was presented to Davis. He 
tried to eat it, but could not, on account of its filthi- 
ness. An Indian, who had been watching him, 
snatched the morsel out of his hand, exclaiming, 
"Bye and bye you eat," and swallowed it in a mo- 
ment. 

At night they again encamped, and Davis was 



54^ 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



stretched upon the naked ground, between two In- 
dians, and so attached to them with thongs of buf- 
falo hide that it was impossible for him to stir without 
disturbing them. In consequence of having been tied 
too tight his limbs had become much swollen and ex- 
ceedingly painful — so much so, indeed, that he found 
it impossible either to sleep or lie still. His restless- 
ness gave great offense to his guards, and he was 
soundly beaten, from time to time, through the night, 
because he could not endure his excruciating pain 
without moving. About daybreak he fell into an 
unquiet doze for a few minutes, and, when he awoke, 
the numbness and pain of his arms had grown so 
distressing that he could not refrain from rising sud- 
denly up. The two Indians likewise sprang up, and 
were about to renew their abuse, when he explained 
to them the condition of his arms. At this they 
seemed partially to relent, and one of them directed 
a boy, who had risen and was standing near, to un- 
tie the thongs with which he was bound. He now 
determined to break away and run as soon as the 
thongs should be loosened, without regard to conse- 
quences. The encampment was made in an open 
space on the bank of a small creek; the camp-fires 
were made all in one row, parallel with the stream; 
and, parallel with the fires, the whole party slept, 
side by side, in a continuous rank. Directly behind 
them, and close to their heads, a horizontal line of 
poles, supported on small forks, about two feet from 
the ground, extended along the entire rank. Along 
this line the guns were placed — the butts upon the 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



547 



ground, between the Indians, and the barrels leaning 
up against the poles. Immediately on the other side 
of the creek was a dense thicket of hazel brush and 
briers. 

While the boy was trying to untie the hard knots 
of the ropes, the Indians, with few exceptions, got 
up and stood about the fires. It was broad daylight. 
As soon as Davis's arms were released he suddenly 
sprang out from among them — dashed through the 
stream, and into the thicket on the other side. The 
Indians pursued him with the most demoniac and ter- 
rific yells. His clothing consisted of a cotton shirt 
and pantaloons, and these were soon entirely torn 
away by the briers. He shaped his course across 
the most craggy and difficult hills. He spent the 
ensuing night, which was frosty and cold, on a steep 
crag; and being entirely naked, and having been 
starved three days, he was near perishing from cold, 
hunger, and fatigue. On the next day he arrived at 
the Ohio River, ten miles above the place where he 
had crossed it in the custody of the Indians. On the 
bank he overthrew a decayed buckeye, which was 
broken, by its fall, into pieces of sufficient length for 
the construction of a raft. Having lashed these pieces 
together with grape-vines, he embarked upon them, 
and passed safely over to the Kentucky shore. 

At night his lodging-place was a hollow tree, and 
he succeeded, the next morning, in finding a canoe 
which he had concealed during a former trip. In this 
he went down to Manchester (Massie's Station), where 
he arrived in the night. Having cautiously approached 



548 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



the pickets, he hailed the inmates of the station, and 
told his story, which was discredited, and he was re- 
fused admittance. Being at length convinced of the 
truth of his statement, they received and entertained 
him with much kindness until the next day, when he 
returned to Limestone. 

The principal leader of this band of Indians was 
a Shawnee chief called "Charley Wilkie." Davis's 
keeper during his captivity, of whom mention has 
several times been made, was a half-breed, of the 
French and Indian blood, of the name of Montour. 
Campbell was sold by the Delawares of the party to 
a French trader, and afterwards escaped. Donalds, 
the prisoner who had been taken at Harmar's Sta- 
tion, was burned alive by the Pottawatomies. 

Before Davis's escape Montour had boastingly 
showed him the handle of his tomahawk, on which 
there were sixteen notches, alleging that he had 
taken that number of scalps at St. Clair's defeat. 
Davis asked him what the Indians had done with St. 
Clair's cannon, and he replied that they had sunk 
four pieces in a deep stream near the battle-ground. 
Happening to speak of this circumstance after his 
return to Limestone, it became known to an officer 
of the army, who compelled him to go to Cincinnati 
for the purpose of communicating his intelligence to 
the commandant of Fort Washington. This he did, 
and the guns were afterwards recovered. After he 
had been taken to Fort Washington and interrogated 
by the commandant, he was dismissed, without food, 
money, or arms. A trader of the name of Wilkie, to 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



549 



whom he made known his destitute condition, supplied 
him with a small quantity of provisions, and he set off 
for Limestone, alone and unarmed. He traveled near 
the river all day, and at night ensconced himself in 
the hollow of a large sycamore, by the root of which 
he had kindled a small fire. In the night he was 
awakened by the roaring sound of flames, and found 
that the hollow shell of the tree above him had been 
kindled by some sparks blown from his fire, and was 
blazing furiously. Before he could escape, his flesh 
and clothes were severely burnt. He arrived at 
Limestone the next day, without any other accident. 

The beaver traps which had been left on the Big 
Sandy, when he was taken by the Indians, were six in 
number, and had cost him five dollars each. These, 
to use his own expression, he could not think of los- 
ing. He therefore hired a man to accompany him, 
and set off in search of them. They went directly 
across the country toward the place where the traps 
were left, but had not traveled very far before the 
hired man had a severe attack of rheumatism. He 
was utterly unable to proceed, and Davis was con- 
sequently obliged to prepare a bark canoe and float 
him down a creek, which ran near the place where 
they had stopped, to the Ohio, and so returned with 
him to Limestone. 

As soon as he had disposed of the sick man he 
hired a boy to perform the trip with him, and imme- 
diately started again, in the same direction, across 
the hills. On the second or third day they heard 
several gunshots near them, and soon after came to 



55o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



an "Indian horse," hoppled in the woods. This 
horse they took and loaded with their packs, and a 
buck which they had just killed, and then proceeded 
till they came near a considerable creek. Here they 
discovered smoke rising up before them, and pres- 
ently found themselves close to an Indian camp, near 
which there were three horses hoppled. Hearing the 
reports of several gunshots close to the camp, they 
hastily untied the horses, haltered them, and went 
forward till they came to another creek. Near this 
they found and secured a couple more horses. In 
this manner they traveled on till they arrived at the 
Big Sandy. As they went down the hills into the 
bottom lands of that river they again heard gunshots 
near them, and saw three hoppled horses just before. 
With these there was also a fine Virginia stallion. 
The whole were secured. They had now ten horses 
in all, and, being convinced that Indians must be 
hotly in pursuit, they gave up the idea of getting the 
beaver traps, and pushed immediately for Limestone. 
The stallion was so unruly that they were obliged to 
gag him, to prevent him from betraying them to the 
Indians by his neighing, and the boy rode him in ad- 
vance, while Davis, on another good horse, brought 
up the rear. All day they traveled rapidly, and at 
night hoppled the horses and turned them out to 
graze ; subsisting themselves entirely on nettles, which 
they ate sometimes raw, and sometimes roasted. For 
fear of meeting their pursuers they dared not take the 
'direct route back to Limestone, but followed down the 
courses of the Big Sandy and Ohio. When they came 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



551 



to Tiger Creek it was so high and rapid that the horses 
were frightened, and ran back some distance. With 
much difficulty they were all brought again to the 
brink of the water, into which the boy rode, upon the 
stallion, and swam over; and Davis at length suc- 
ceeded in forcing the others to follow. Hearing the 
sound of hoofs, just at that moment, behind him, he 
faced about and saw an Indian riding off at full speed 
upon the horse which he had previously ridden him- 
self, and which had been fastened to a tree with paw- 
paw bark while he was engaged in driving the others 
through the creek. He immediately fastened two or 
three chunks of wood together with bark, placed his 
gun upon them, swam across, and went on as fast as 
possible. 

Having traveled in this manner five days, they ar- 
rived at Limestone, and advertised the horses. They 
had all been stolen by the Indians from different sta- 
tions in Kentucky, and, with the exception of one, 
were reclaimed by the proper owners. 

Soon after this, Davis, Duncan McArthur, John 
McDowell, and Benjamin Beasly were employed by 
Simon Kenton in the capacity of spies. These four 
were divided into two squads, and thus ranged up 
and down the Ohio, from Limestone to the mouth of 
the Big Sandy, alternately performing tours of from 
one to two weeks' duration. They were especially 
charged to give information to Kenton, who lived at 
Washington, near Limestone, whenever they might 
ascertain that the Indians had crossed or were about 
to cross the Ohio into Kentucky. Davis and one of 



552 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



the others were proceeding up the Kentucky side of 
the river with a small canoe, when they discovered a 
large trail of Indians on the shore, leading directly 
off from the water s edge. Following this trail a short 
distance, they found six large canoes concealed in a 
pawpaw thicket. In each canoe there were six pad- 
dles, a supply of provisions, etc. These they left 
unmolested, and hastened to Kenton with the news. 
It happened to be exactly in harvest time, and the 
settlers were so busily employed in saving their grain 
that they could not be persuaded to turn out. Find- 
ing they could get no assistance, the two spies went 
back alone, but the canoes were gone, and they ascer- 
tained from the returning trail that the Indians had 
taken off a considerable number of horses. 

Another time Davis and Beasly went up the Ken- 
tucky side in the same manner until they came to a 
sand-bar which extended into the river opposite the 
mouth of the Scioto. Being scarce of provisions, one 
of them fired at a wild duck, just before they turned 
out into the river to double the sand-bar. On coming 
to the shore above the bar, they saw the sand upon 
the bank freshly turned up, as they supposed, by buf- 
falo hoofs. A close examination, however, convinced 
them that a party of Indians had there been prepar- 
ing to cross with their stolen horses, and had been 
frightened away by the shot which they had fired at 
the wild duck. In order to ascertain whether any of 
the Indians had crossed, they immediately went over 
themselves, and landed below the mouth of Scioto. 
Beasly remained near the canoe, while Davis struck 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



553 



across the bottom in search of tracks. Arriving at 
the hills, and having seen no Indian trail, he turned 
his course downward a short distance, to a large deer 
lick. When close to the lick he walked slowly and 
stealthily, and kept a sharp lookout for Indians. Sud- 
denly a rifle cracked in the woods directly before him, 
and a bullet whistled past his ear. With that quick- 
ness and precision so remarkable in all thoroughbred 
woodsmen, his gun was brought from his shoulder to 
the right position and discharged, and, before the In- 
dian knew the result of his own shot, he was himself 
laid low. Davis turned instantly and ran at full speed 
to the canoe, where he found Beasly behind a tree, 
awaiting his return. Not doubting that there were 
other Indians about the lick, they sprang into the 
canoe and pushed off into the river as quickly as pos- 
sible. When they had got away two or three hun- 
dred yards a large number of Indians came running 
down the bank at the place which they had just left, 
but made no attempt to follow them further. Having 
reported their discoveries to Kenton, they again went 
to the deer lick, where some other hunters had also 
gone, and had found the Indian's grave, and the blood 
upon the ground where Davis had shot him. 

It will be seen from the foregoing that the informa- 
tion was partly erroneous on which Colonel McDonald 
predicated the account of this affair, which he has given 
in his excellent sketch of General McArthur. It was 
Beasly, and not McArthur, who accompanied Davis. 

After this, Davis and a man of the name of Tolbert 
went over the Ohio, from Graham's Station, at Can- 



554 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN, 



ada Bottom, to hunt turkeys. They were running 
about through the woods after a large flock which 
they had raised, and had fired about a dozen shots at 
them, when Davis saw something move at a distance 
before him. At this he stood still, and soon discovered 
a large number of Indians running rapidly through the 
woods. He immediately called Tolbert to him, and 
they concealed themselves behind some large trees. 
The Indians passed within one hundred yards, and 
Davis was about to fire at them, but was prevented 
by Tolbert, who, being somewhat clumsy, was afraid 
to try the risk of a race for his life. As soon as the 
Indians were out of sight the hunters returned with- 
out delay to the other side of the river. 

Davis continued to serve as a spy for three years. 
Afterwards he went with Campbell and some boatmen 
across the river to a small creek below the mouth of 
the Scioto, in quest of turkeys. After hunting all day 
they encamped at night, and the boatmen were very 
frolicksome and noisy. They were requested to be 
silent, but would not. After awhile they lay down 
before the fire, and the whole party fell asleep, except 
Davis, who was apprehensive of an attack from Indi- 
ans, and consequently remained wakeful and watchful. 
In the night he heard a noise, like the pecking of a 
woodpecker, a short distance from the camp, which 
was replied to by a similar sound in another direc- 
tion. He now awoke Campbell, telling him there 
were Indians around them. When Campbell had 
listened attentively to the sound he also was of opin- 
ion that it was made by Indians, and they immedi- 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



555 



ately awoke the boatmen, who laughed and called 
them cowards. Davis and Campbell took their guns 
and went away from the fire, into the woods, and the 
rest soon followed. After a few moments' consulta- 
tion they concluded to cross the river, which they 
accordingly did. Towards daybreak the Indians like- 
wise crossed over, a little higher up the river. While 
doing so they were seen by the people on board some 
flat-boats which were descending. This information 
Davis and his company received from the boats in 
time to enable them to make their escape. 

Another time Davis, Campbell, and four others 
crossed the Ohio on a hunting expedition, and en- 
camped one mile above the mouth of Scioto. They 
killed a great number of deer, bears, and turkeys. 
They had several excellent dogs along. One, in par- 
ticular, which belonged to Davis, was uncommonly 
powerful and fierce. One night the dogs became 
alarmed and barked furiously, dashing out occasion- 
ally into the woods, and then running back to the 
camp, which stood immediately on the bank of the 
Ohio. Davis and Campbell were satisfied that they 
were beset by Indians, and that an attack would cer- 
tainly be made very soon. They determined, there- 
fore, to retreat across the river about daylight in the 
morning, and accordingly did so. The other hunters 
refused to go. Before Davis and Campbell had got 
across they were loudly called to from the camp which 
they had just left, but could not understand what was 
said to them. They hastened across to the Kentucky 
shore and concealed themselves in the woods all day. 



556 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



At night they returned to the river and looked across, 
but there was no fire nor light of any kind to be seen 
at their camp. They hallooed loudly, and were an- 
swered by their friends from the other side, and from 
different places up and down the river. They soon 
met, and went all together to the camp, which they 
found demolished. The Indians had rushed upon it 
in the morning, a few minutes after Davis and Camp- 
bell left. The hunters escaped without injury, but 
with the loss of their whole stock of skins, camp 
equipments, etc. They were so much discouraged 
by this adventure that they gave up their "hunt" 
and returned to Limestone. Campbell was subse- 
quently killed by the Indians while hunting, not far 
from Limestone, on the Ohio side of the river. 

Soon after Wayne's treaty Davis removed from 
Kentucky and settled on the Scioto, below Chilli- 
cothe, where his house was robbed by a man named 
Whale, in consequence of which he removed to Chilli- 
cothe. His property was afterwards recovered by 
Colonel McDonald, the well-known author of recent 
"Sketches" of some of the distinguished pioneers. 
He afterwards lived many years a few miles west of 
Chillicothe. While he was living on the Scioto, where 
he first settled, a party of the Indians who had taken 
him prisoner, in passing down the river, came to his 
door. On seeing him they exclaimed, with great sur- 
prise, " Waugh ! shinneh! wanneh!" — L e. y " Captain." 
They were very friendly, and evidently much pleased 
to see him. 

The foregoing is a very condensed statement of 



SKETCH OF A PIONEER. 



557 



some few of Mr. Davis's most striking reminiscences 
as they were gathered from him during a brief con- 
versation. Many of his other recollections, pertain- 
ing as well to other men and events as to himself, 
are very interesting, and, I trust, may yet be given 
to the public. 



33 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



THE following animated description of a buffalo 
hunt is taken from a letter of Mr. Catlin, the 
famous traveller, written about fifty years ago, from 
the mouth of the Yellowstone River : 

" The several tribes of Indians inhabiting the regions 
of the Upper Missouri, and of whom I spoke in my 
last letter, are undoubtedly the finest looking, best 
equipped, and most beautifully costumed of any on the 
continent. They live in a country well-stocked with 
buffaloes and wild-horses, which furnish them an excel- 
lent and easy living ; their atmosphere is pure, which 
produces good health and long life ; and they are the 
most independent and the happiest races of Indians 
I have met with : they are all entirely in a state of 
primitive wildness, and consequently are picturesque 
and handsome, almost beyond description. Nothing 
in the world, of its kind, can possibly surpass in beauty 
and grace, some of their games and amusements — their 
gambols and parades, of which I shall speak and paint 
hereafter. 

" As far as my travels have yet led me into the 
Indian country, I have more than realized my former 
predictions that those Indians who could be found most 
entirely in a state of nature, with the least knowledge 

of civilized society, would be found to be the most 

(558) 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



559 



cleanly in their persons, elegant in their dress and 
manners, and enjoying life to the greatest perfection. 
Of such tribes, perhaps the Crows and Blackfeet stand 
first ; and no one would be able to appreciate the rich- 
ness and elegance (and even taste) with which some 
of these people dress, without seeing them in their own 
country. I will do all I can, however, to make their 
looks as well as customs known to the world ; I will 
paint with my brush and scribble with my pen, and 
bring their plumes and plumage, dresses, weapons, etc., 
and everything but the Indian himself, to prove to the 
world the assertion which I have made above. 

" Every one of these red sons of the forest (or rather 
of the prairie) is a knight and lord — his squaws are his 
slaves ; the only things which he deems worthy of his 
exertions are to mount his snorting steed, with his bow 
and quiver slung, his arrow and shield upon his arm, 
and his long lance glistening in the war parade ; or, 
divested of all his plumes and trappings, armed with a 
simple bow and quiver, to plunge his steed amongst 
the flying herds of buffaloes, and with his sinewy bow, 
which he seldom bends in vain, to drive deep to life's 
fountain the whizzing arrow. 

" The buffalo herds, which graze in almost countless 
numbers on these beautiful prairies, afford them an 
abundance of meat ; and so much is it preferred to all 
other, that the deer, the elk, and the antelope sport 
upon the prairies in the greatest security ; as the Indians 
seldom kill them, unless they want their skin for a dress. 
The buffalo (or more correctly speaking bison) is a 
noble animal, that roams over the vast prairies, from 
the borders of Mexico on the south, to Hudson's Bay 
on the north. Their size is somewhat above that of 



5 6o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



our common bullock, and their flesh of a delicious flavor, 
resembling and equaling that of fat beef. Their flesh, 
which is easily procured, furnishes the savage of these 
vast regions the means of a wholesome and good sub- 
sistence, and they live almost exclusively upon it — con- 
verting the skins, horns, hoofs and bones, to the con- 
struction of dresses, shields, bows, etc. The buffalo 
bull is one of the most formidable and frightful looking 
animals in the world when excited to resistance ; his 
long shaggy mane hangs in great profusion over his 
neck and shoulders and often extends quite down to 
the ground. The cow is less in stature, and less fero- 
cious ; though not much less wild and frightful in her 
appearance. 

"The mode in which these Indians kill this noble 
animal is spirited and thrilling in the extreme. I have 
almost daily accompanied parties of Indians to see the 
fun, and have often shared in it myself; but much 
oftener run my horse by their sides to see how the 
thing was done — to study the modes and expressions 
of these splendid scenes, which I am industriously put- 
ting upon the canvas. 

" They are all (or nearly so) killed with arrows and 
the lance, while at full speed ; and the reader may eas- 
ily imagine, that these scenes afford the most spirited 
and picturesque views of the sporting kind that can 
possibly be seen. 

" At present, I will give a little sketch of a bit of fun 
I joined in yesterday, with Mr. M'Kenzie and a num- 
ber of his men. 

" I mentioned the other day that M'Kenzie's table 
from day to day groans under the weight of buffalo 
tongues and beavers' tails, and other luxuries of this 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



561 



western land. He has within his Fort a spacious ice- 
house, in which he preserves his meat fresh for any 
length of time required ; and sometimes, when his lar- 
der runs low, he starts out, rallying some five or six of 
his best hunters (not to hunt, but to 'go for meat.') 
He leads the party, mounted on his favorite buffalo * 
horse (z. e. the horse amongst his whole group which 
is best trained to run the buffalo.) trailing a light and 
short gun in his hand, such a one as he can most easily 
reload whilst his horse is at full speed. 

" Such was the condition of the ice-house yesterday 
morning, which caused these self-catering gentlemen to 
cast their eyes with a wishful look over the prairies ; 
and such was the plight in which our host took the 
lead, and I, and then Mons. Cardon, and Ba'tiste De- 
fonde and Tullock (who is a trader amongst the Crows, 
and is here at this time, with a large party of that 
tribe,) and there were several others whose names I do 
not know. 

"As we were mounted and ready to start, M'Kenzie 
called up some four or five of his men, and then told 
them to follow immediately on our trail, with as many 
one-horse carts, which they were to harness up, to 
bring home the meat. ' Ferry them across the river in 
the scow,' said he, ' and following our trail through the 
bottom, you will find us on the plain yonder, between 
the Yellowstone and Missouri rivers, with meat 
enough to load you home. My watch on yonder bluff 
has just told us by his signals, that there are cattle 
plenty on the spot, and we are going there as fast as 
possible.' We all crossed the river, and galloped away 
a couple of miles or so, when we mounted the bluff; 
and to be sure, as was said, there was in full view of us 



562 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



a fine herd of some four or five hundred buffaloes, per- 
fectly at rest. Some were grazing, and others were 
lying down and sleeping ; we advanced within a mile 
or so of them in full view, and came to a halt. Mons. 
Chardon 'tossed the feather' (a custom always ob- 
served, to try the course of the wind,) and we com- 
menced ' stripping ' as it is termed (i. e. every man 
strips himself and his horse of extraneous and unneces- 
sary appendage of dress, etc., that might be an incum- 
brance in running;) hats are laid off, and coats — and 
bullet pouches; sleeves are rolled up, a handkerchief 
tied tightly around the head, and another around the 
waist — cartridges are prepared and placed in the waist- 
coat pocket, or a half dozen bullets 'throwed into the 
mouth,' etc., etc., all of which takes some ten or fifteen 
minutes, and is not, in appearance or effect, unlike a 
council of war. Our leader lays the whole plan of the 
chase, and preliminaries all fixed, guns charged and 
ramrods in our hands, we mount and start for the 
onset. The horses are all trained for this business, 
and seem to enter into it with as much enthusiasm, and 
with as restless a spirit as the riders themselves. 
While ' stripping ' and mounting, they exhibit the most 
restless impatience ; and when ' approaching ' — (which 
is, all of us abreast, upon a slow walk, and in a straight 
line towards the herd, until they discover us and run,) 
they all seem to have caught entirely the spirit of the 
chase, for the laziest nag amongst them prances with 
an elasticity in his step — champing his bit — his ears 
erect — his eyes strained out of his head, and fixed upon 
the game before him, whilst he trembles under the 
saddle of his rider. In this way we carefully and silently 
marched, until within some forty or fifty rods ; when 



A BUFFALO HUNT. 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



565 



the herd discovering us, wheeled and laid their course 
in a mass. At this instant we started ! (and all must 
start, for no one could check the fury of those steeds at 
that moment of excitement,) and away all sailed, and 
over the prairie new, in a cloud of dust which was raised 
by their trampling hoofs. M'Kenzie was foremost in 
the throng, and soon dashed off amidst the dust and 
was out of sight — he was after the fattest and fastest. 
I had discovered a huge bull whose shoulders towered 
above the whole band, and I picked my way through 
the whole crowd to get alongside of him. I went not 
for 'meat,' but for a trophy; I wanted his head and 
horns. I dashed along through the thundering mass, 
as they swept away over the plain, scarcely able to tell 
whether I was on a buffalo's back or my horse — hit, 
and hooked, and jostled about, till at length I found 
myself alongside of my game, when I gave him a shot, 
as I passed him. I saw guns flash in several directions 
about me, but I heard them not. Amidst the trampling 
throng, Mons. Chardon had wounded a stately bull, 
and at this moment was passing him again with his 
piece levelled for another shot ; they were both at full 
speed and I also, within the reach of the muzzle of my 
gun, when the bull instantly turned and receiving the 
horse upon his horns, and the ground received poor 
Chardon, who made a frog's leap of some twenty feet 
or more over the bull's back, and almost under my 
horse's heels. I wheeled my horse as soon as possible 
and rode back, where lay poor Chardon, gasping to 
start his breath again ; and within a few paces of him 
his huge victim, with his heels high in the air, and the 
horse lying across him. I dismounted instantly, but 
Chardon was raising himself on his hands, with his 



5 66 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



eyes full of dirt, and feeling for his gun, which lay 
about thirty feet in advance of him. ' Heaven spare 

you ! are you hurt, Chardon ?' ' hi — hie hie hie 

hie no, hie no 

no no, I believe not. Oh ! this is not much, 

Mons. Catline — this is nothing new — but this is a hard 
piece of ground here — hie — oh ! hie ! ' At this the 
poor fellow fainted, but in a few moments arose, picked 
up his gun, took his horse by the bit ; which then 
opened its eyes, and with a hie and a ugh— ughk ! 
sprang upon its feet — shook off the dirt — and here we 
were, all upon our legs again, save the bull, whose fate 
had been more sad than that of either. 

" I turned my eyes in the direction where the herd 
had gone, and our companions in pursuit, and nothing 
could be seen of them, nor indication, except the cloud 
of dust which they left behind them. — At a little dis- 
tance on the right, however, I beheld my huge victim 
endeavoring to make as much head-way as he possibly 
could, from this dangerous ground, upon three legs. I 
galloped off to him, and at my approach he wheeled 
around — and bristled up for battle ; he seemed to know 
perfectly well that he could not escape from me, and 
resolved to meet his enemy and death as bravely as 
possible. 

" I found that my shot had entered him a little too 
far forward, breaking one of his shoulders, and lodging 
in his breast, and from his very great weight it was 
impossible for him to make much advance upon me. 
As I rode up within a few paces of him he would 
bristle up with fury enough in his looks alone, almost to 
annihilate me ; and making one lunge at me, would fall 
upon his neck and nose, so that I found the sagacity of 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



567 



my horse enough to keep me out of reach of danger: 
and I drew from my pocket my sketch-book, laid my 
gun across my lap, and commenced taking his likeness. 
— He stood stiffened up, and swelling with awful ven- 
geance, which was sublime for a picture, but which he 
could not vent upon me. I rode around him and sketched 
him in numerous attitudes, sometimes he would lie down, 
and I would then sketch him, then throw my cap at him, 
and rousing him on his legs, rally a new expression, 
and sketch him again. 

" In this way I added to my sketch-book some invalu- 
able sketches of this grim-visaged monster, who knew 
not that he was standing for his likeness. 

" No man on earth can imagine what is the look and 
expression of such a subject before him as this was. I 
defy the world to procure another animal that can look 
so frightful as a huge buffalo bull, when wounded as he 
was, turned around for battle, and swelling with rage ; 
— his eyes bloodshot, and his long shaggy mane hang- 
ing to the ground, — his mouth open, and his horrid rage 
hissing in streams of smoke and blood from his mouth 
and through his nostrils, as he is bending forward to 
spring upon his assailant. 

" After I had had the requisite time and opportunity 
for using my pencil, M'Kenzie and his companions came 
walking their exhausted horses back from the chase, 
and in our rear came four or five carts to carry home 
the meat. The party met from all quarters around me 
and my buffalo bull, whom I then shot in the head and 
finished. And being seated together for a few minutes, 
each one took a smoke of the pipe, and recited his 
exploits, and his 'coups' or deaths; when all parties 
had a hearty laugh at me, as a novice, for having aimed 



5 68 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



at an old bull, whose flesh was not suitable for food, and 
the carts were escorted on the trail to bring away the 
meat. I rode back with Mr. M'Kenzie, who pointed 
out five cows which he had killed, and all of them 
selected as the fattest and sleekest of the herd. This 
astonishing feat was all performed within the distance 
of one mile — all were killed at full speed, and every one 
shot through the heart. In the short space of time 
required for a horse under ' full whip/ to run the dist- 
ance of one mile he had discharged his gun five, and 
loaded it four times — selected his animals, and killed at 
every shot ! There were six or eight others killed at the 
same time, which altogether furnished, as will be seen, 
abundance of freight for the carts ; which returned, as 
well as several packhorses, loaded with the choicest 
parts which were cut from the animals, and the remain- 
der of the carcasses left a prey for the wolves. 

" Such is the mode by which white men live in this 
country — such is the way by which they get their food, 
and such is one of their delightful amusements — at the 
hazard of every bone in one's body, to feel the fine and 
thrilling exhilaration of the chase for a moment, and 
then as often to upraid and blame himself for his folly 
and imprudence." 

In another letter Mr. Catlin gives the following infor- 
mation with regard to the causes of the rapid exter- 
mination of these noble animals : 

" When I first arrived in this place on my way up the 
river, which was in the month of May, in 1832, and 
had taken up my lodgings in the Fur Company's Fort, 
Mr. Laidlaw, and also his chief clerk, Mr. Halsey, and 
many of their men, as well as the chiefs of the Sioux, 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



569 



told me, that only a few days before I arrived, (when 
an immense herd of buffaloes had showed themselves 
on the opposite side of the river almost blackening the 
plains for a great distance,) a party of five or six hun- 
dred Sioux Indians, on horseback, forded the river 
about midday, and spending a few hours amongst them, 
recrossed the river at sun-down and came into the Fort 
with fourteen hundred fresh buffalo tongues, which were 
thrown down in a mass, and for which they required 
but a few gallons of whiskey, which was soon demol- 
ished, indulging them in a little, but not harmless 
carouse. 

"This profligate waste of the lives of these noble 
and useful animals, when, from all that I could 
learn, not a skin or a pound of the meat (except the 
tongues,) was brought in, fully supports me in the 
seemingly extravagant predictions that I have made as 
to their extinction, which I am certain is near at hand. 
In the above extravagant instance, at a season when 
their skins were without fur and not worth taking off, 
and their camp was so well stocked with fresh and 
dried meat, that they had no occasion for using the 
flesh, there is a fair exhibition of the improvident char- 
acter of the savage, and also of his recklessness in 
catering for his appetite, so long as the present induce- 
ments are held out to him in his country, for its grati- 
fication. 

"In this singular country, where the poor Indians 
have no laws or regulations of society, making it a vice 
or an impropriety to drink to excess, they think it no 
harm to indulge in the delicious beverage, as long as 
they are able to buy whiskey to drink. They look to 
white men as wiser than themselves, and able to set 



57o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



them examples — they see none of these in their country 
but sellers of whiskey, who are constantly tendering it 
to them, and most of them setting the example by 
using it themselves ; and they easily acquire a taste, 
that to be catered for, where whiskey is sold at sixteen 
dollars per gallon, soon impoverishes them, and must 
soon strip the skin from the last buffalo's back that 
lives in their country, to ' be dressed by their squaws ' 
and vended to the traders for a pint of diluted alcohol. 

"From the above remarks it will be seen, that not 
only the red men, but red men and white, have aimed 
destruction at the race of these animals; and with 
them, beasts have turned hunters of buffaloes in this 
country, slaying them, however, in less numbers, and 
for far more laudable purposes than that of selling their 
skins. The white wolves, of which I have spoken in a 
former epistle, follow the herds of buffaloes, as I have 
said, from one season to another, glutting themselves 
on the carcasses of those that fall by the deadly shafts 
of their enemies, or linger with disease or old age to be 
dispatched by these sneaking cormorants, who are 
ready at all times kindly to relieve them from the 
pangs of a lingering death. 

" Whilst the herd is together, the wolves never 
attack them, as they instantly gather for combined 
resistance, which they effectually make. But when 
the herds are travelling, it often happens that an aged 
or wounded one, lingers at a distance behind, and 
when fairly out of sight of the herd, is set upon by 
these voracious hunters, which often gather to the 
number of fifty or more, and are sure at last to torture 
him to death, and use him up at a meal. The buffalo, 
however, is a huge and furious animal, and when his 



HUNTING THE BUFFALO. 



571 



retreat is cut off, makes desperate and deadly resist- 
ance, contending to the last moment for the right of 
life — and oftentimes deals death by wholesale, to his 
canine assailants, which he is tossing into the air or 
stamping to death under his feet. 

" During my travels in these regions, I have several 
times come across such a gang of these animals sur- 
rounding an old or a wounded bull, where it would 
seem, from appearances, that they had been for sev- 
eral days in attendance, and at intervals desperately 
engaged in the effort to take his life. But a short 
time since, as one of my hunting companions and my- 
self were returning to our encampment with our horses 
loaded with meat, we discovered at a distance, a huge 
bull, encircled with a gang of white wolves ; we rode 
up as near as we could without driving them away, 
and being within pistol shot, we had a remarkably 
good view, where I sat for a few moments and made a 
sketch in my note-book ; after which, we rode up and 
gave the signal for them to disperse, which they 
instantly did, withdrawing themselves to the distance 
of fifty or sixty rods, when we found, to our great sur- 
prise, that the animal had made desperate resistance, 
until his eyes were entirely eaten out of his head — the 
grizzle of his nose was mostly gone — his tongue w T as- 
half eaten off, and the skin and the flesh of his legs 
torn almost literally into strings. In this tattered and 
torn condition, the poor old veteran stood bracing up 
in the midst of his devourers, who had ceased hostil- 
ities for a few minutes, to enjoy a sort of parley, recov- 
ering strength and preparing to resume the attack in a 
few moments again. In this group, some were reclin- 
ing, to gain breath, whilst others were sneaking about 



572 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



and licking their chaps in anxiety for a renewal of the 
attack; and others, less lucky, had beeji crushed to 
death by the feet or the horns of the bull. I rode 
nearer to the pitiable object as he stood bleeding and 
trembling before me, and said to him, ' ' Now is your 
time, old fellow, and you had better be off." Though 
blind and nearly destroyed, there seemed evidently to 
be a recognition of a friend in me, as he straightened 
up, and, trembling with excitement, dashed off at full 
speed upon the prairie, in a straight line. We turned 
our horses and resumed our march, and when we had 
advanced a mile or more, we looked back, and on our 
left, where we saw again the ill-fated animal surrounded 
by his tormentors, to whose insatiable voracity he 
unquestionably soon fell a victim." 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



ALL who have visited the town of Haverhill, in 
Massachusetts, have seen the monument erected by 
its citizens in commemoration of the wonderful exploit 
of Mrs. Dustan. The narrative of the Dustan family, 
and of Mrs. Dustan's captivity and escape ranks 
with the most celebrated stories of pioneer adventure. 
It is as follows : 

At the time of this history Haverhill occupied an ex- 
posed situation on the frontier. There were no settle- 
ments between it and the wilderness, and it was re- 
moved from the towns to the East. It was, therefore, 
at the mercy of the native Indians who possessed the 
forest, and the Canadian tribes who wandered through 
it from time to time. But, though thus isolated and 
exposed, the village, for more than fifty years from its 
first settlement, remained unattacked. It grew to be a 
thriving town, and toward the end of the seventeenth 
century had a considerable population and covered, 
with its adjoining farms, most of which were highly 
cultivated, a broad extent of territory. 

In the month of March of the year 1697, tne Indians 
made a sudden, descent upon the village, They had 
for several years previous been very troublesome. The 
villagers had more than once armed themselves in ex- 
pectation of attack. Alarms had often been given ; but 

(573) 



574 



THE BACK- WOODSMEN. 



they had as often proved false. When the real danger 
came, the fears of the inhabitants had subsided, and 
defensive preparation had been given over. The con- 
sequence was that the savages enjoyed complete suc- 
cess. A large number of houses were entered by the 
Indians and burned, and more than forty of the unfor- 
tunate inhabitants were either killed or carried into 
captivity. 

At the moment of attack, Mr. Dustan, who owned 
a house and farm at some distance from the main vil- 
lage, was working in his field. The realization of im- 
minent and terrible danger was the first intimation 
which he had of his peril. Stopping in the midst of 
the furrow, he chanced to look in the direction of his 
house, and, to his utter dismay, discovered, at a short 
distance, a band of savages, armed with rifles, rushing 
swiftly towards it. 

There was but one thing to be done. Mr. Dustan 
quickly unhitched, took up his rifle, mounted his horse, 
and rode to the house, giving the warning cry as he 
did so. 

Mr. Dustan's family consisted of his wife, eight chil- 
dren, and a female domestic. The youngest child was 
but one week old, and Mrs. Dustan was still confined 
to her bed. Of the other children, the eldest, a 
daughter, was not over sixteen, and the youngest, a 
little boy, was but five years old. 

The situation might well have perplexed the coolest 
mind, but Mr. Dustan acted with becoming decision. 
He ordered his wife to rise and dress herself with all 
dispatch, gave her babe to the nurse, and, turning to 
the children, commanded them to fly for their lives. 
Mrs. Dustan commenced to put on her clothes with 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



575 



trembling haste, and the seven children, who needed 
no second order, left the house, and ran in the direction 
which he had pointed out. 

The yells of the savages indicated that they were 
now very near the cabin. In a moment they would 
be at the door. What was to be done ? Mr. Dustan 
knew that he could not successfully defend himself 
and his wife against so large a number of enemies. If 
he remained where he was, he must surely die. His 
little children were without a defender, and they would 
either be tomahawked by the ruthless enemy, or suffer 
a fate still more unhappy. His mind was soon made 
up. He resolved to leave his wife to her fate and follow 
the children, whom there was still a possibility of 
saving. 

Bidding adieu to his wife and the nurse, Mr. Dustan 
mounted his horse and rode after the flying children. 
Overtaking them, he found a new and seemingly 
insuperable difficulty. The youngest of the seven, ex- 
hausted by the rapid pace which he had been obliged 
to keep, was panting for breath, and the others, 
unwilling to leave him behind, had slackened their 
speed. The Indians were coming at full run, brandish- 
ing their tomahawks and filling the air with terrible 
yells. Sick with depair, Dustan formed a hasty reso- 
lution. He dismounted from his horse, seized the five- 
year old child, remounted, and prepared to fly, deter- 
mining that as he could not save the whole of his little 
flock, he would at least rescue the most helpless, and 
therefore best beloved. But, as he cast a last look at 
the remaining children, he reproached himself for so 
unnatural a determination. He found that he loved 

them all, and that he could not leave any to the cruel 
34 



576 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



mercies of the heartless Indians. He therefore placed 
the little one again on the ground, and, telling the 
children to separate so as to expose a divided front to 
the enemy's aim, and continue their flight, he turned 
and faced the approaching savages. 

The Indians were by this time within easy range. 
Dustan raised his gun and fired. An Indian dropped 
to the ground. The rest of the band, surprised at the 
resistance shown by Mr. Dustan, stopped short, and 
quickly responded, sending a volley of bullets after the 
fugitives and then resuming the pursuit. Fortunately 
neither the father nor children were injured, Mr. Dustan 
continued to retreat until he had reloaded his gun, 
when he again turned and fired, once more with fatal 
effect. The savages were cowardly and cautious, and, 
instead of closing on the enemy, kept a distance, firing 
repeatedly with a hope of bringing him to the ground. 
All their shots proved harmless, and Mr. Dustan, after 
fighting and retreating for about a mile, finally reached 
with all the children, a fortified house, where he took 
shelter. The baffled Indians withdrew, and the next 
day Mr. Dustan returned to his dwelling. He found 
his former happy home a heap of smoldering ruins. 
His wife, with her babe and the nurse had been carried 
off. He entertained no doubt whatever that they had 
been killed, or, worse, led into life-long captivity, and 
was ignorant of their fate until some time after. What 
their fate was our readers are now to hear. 

When Mr. Dustan left the cabin his wife did not, as 
she might have done without reproach under the cir- 
cumstances, abandon herself to despair and begin to 
repine the wretchedness of her lot. She knew that all 
was for the best, and resigned herself to her fortune. 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



577 



She had not yet finished dressing when a party of 
Indians appeared at the door. They unceremoniously 
proceeded to rifle the house of its valuables, and then 
after setting fire to it, tied Mrs. Dustan's arms behind 
her, and hastily marched with her and the nurse, who 
carried the infant, in the direction of the wilderness. 
As she was led off, Mrs. Dustan saw her husband and 
children retreating from the pursuing savages. A 
moment after she heard the sound of the rifles, and, 
though her captors would not permit her to turn to 
ascertain the result, she could not doubt that all that 
she loved in the world had been forever lost. 

Mrs. Dustan's physical condition was extremely 
delicate. Besides this, every circumstance was the 
reverse of favorable. The March wind was blowing a 
cold and snowy gust, and the ground was miry with 
half-melted snow. She was not entirely clad, and the 
garments which she had on were thin. One of her 
feet was bare and her head was uncovered. The 
Indians were without mercy. They beat her cruelly 
across the head, back and ankles, and threatened her 
with instant death if she failed to keep pace with 
them. Under these circumstances the most resolute 
spirits might have despaired, but Mrs. Dustan was 
firm, calm and fearless. 

Her chief solicitude was for her infant, and she bade 
her nurse to protect it from the cold and keep it quiet, 
lest its cries should provoke her captors. She had 
heard of the atrocities practiced by the savages toward 
young children, but was loth to believe their truth. 
She soon realized, however, that the terrible stories 
which had been told her were not fictions. They had 
gone, perhaps, five miles, when one of the Indians, 



578 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



stopping abruptly, seized the infant by one of its legs, 
quickly brained it with his tomahawk and then threw it 
into the bushes, at the same time making a menacing 
gesture to the mother, who had been a silent and 
agonized spectator of the scene. 

During four days the Indians traveled with their 
captives through thick forests and over rocky hills. 
The privations that Mrs. Dustan passed through were 
terrible. She was obliged to sleep at night on the 
frozen ground with no covering. She was given very 
little food, and what little she ate was not nourishing. 
At length an Indian wigwam, the home of the leader 
of the band was reached, and the captives were given 
a brief period of rest. 

About the middle of April the captives were one day 
told to prepare again for the march. It was the 
intention of the Indians to carry them to a village 
further in the interior. The party on setting out 
numbered twelve Indians, of whom two were powerful 
and agile warriors, three were squaws, and seven were 
children. The prisoners were Mrs. Dustan, her nurse, 
and a white lad who had been with the savages for 
some time, and had adapted himself to their ways and 
gained their confidence. 

Before starting, one of the warriors maliciously 
informed Mrs. Dustan, that on their arrival at the 
Indian village, she and her female companion would be 
required to run the gauntlet. He described the 
character of the ordeal in terms which struck terror to 
the poor woman's heart. He said that as soon as they 
came into the town, all the inhabitants, men, women 
and children, would congregate, and, armed with clubs, 
knives and other formidable weapons, form two long 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



579 



lines. He informed the women that they would then 
be stripped of all their clothing and ordered to run 
between the ranks. If at the end of the race, they sur- 
vived the blows of the savages, their lives would be 
spared, provided it was determined to adopt them into 
the tribe. f 

Mrs. Dustan, though a woman, had true courage, 
and could not endure the thought of so ignominious a 
punishment. She determined to die, if need be, like a 
heroine, and not to await the terrible infliction which 
her cruel captors had in store for her. Revolving in 
her mind a number of plans which suggested them- 
selves, she finally hit upon one which she proceeded at 
once to carry into execution. 

Conversing with the white lad whom the Indians had 
with them, she found that he was dissatisfied with his 
life and anxious to return home. She accordingly 
imparted to him a portion of her scheme and obtained 
his offer of assistance. Her next step was to ascertain 
the Indian manner of killing an enemy with the toma- 
hawk, and she told the boy to ask one of the warriors 
how and in what part of the head to deal a death-blow, 
and how to take off a scalp. The Indian answered the 
inquiry satisfactorily, and without suspicion, and the lad 
informed Mrs. Dustan at the first opportunity. 

At night the Indians lay down by their fire, with 
their prisoners in their midst. No one was left to 
watch the camp, for the savages believed that hopes of 
escape were no longer entertained by the helpless 
women, and they regarded the white youth as one of 
their own number. The captives were not even bound. 

About the middle of the night, when all the Indians 
were deep in sleep, Mrs. Dustan, who had told her 



5 8o 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



fellow prisoners her intention, and relied on their co- 
operation for success, arose, and, gently awakening 
them, signified that the time for action had come. She 
gave each of them a tomahawk and then, when all was 
prepared, plunged her own weapon deep in the head 
of the warrior who had led the attack on her home 
and so brutally murdered her child. So effective was 
the blow that he died without uttering a groan. Im- 
mediately after she dispatched the second warrior, and 
then, treading noiselessly among the sleeping forms, 
tomahawked one after another of the squaws and 
children. Her example was followed by her two com- 
panions. Ten of the Indians were killed instantly. 
The other two, aroused at the last moment, escaped 
and ran off into the forest. 

When the bloody work was finished, Mrs. Dustan 
took a scalping knife from the belt of one of the 
warriors and proceeded to detach the scalps. This 
done, she seized a gun with some ammunition and a 
small supply of food, and started with her companions 
on the return journey. The Merrimac River was 
reached in a day or two, and the fugitives were 
fortunate enough to find a canoe concealed in some 
bushes on its bank. Embarking, they dropped down 
the stream to Haverhill. She found her husband and 
children safe, and was as much surprised as she was 
rejoiced to see them. Her story was at first received 
with incredulity, but when she displayed the scalps 
which she had taken, she was hailed as a heroine. 
The report of her feat spread through all the colonies. 
Many prominent persons wrote, or came personally to 
compliment her ; the General Court of Massachusetts 
voted a sum of fifty pounds, of which she received one 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



581 



half, to the three brave participants in this extraordi- 
nary exploit. Mrs. Dustan's adventure has been cele- 
brated in history and song, and, as we have already 
said, a monument has been erected in Haverhill in 
commemoration of it. 



King Philip's War, so called from the chief who was 
the recognized leader of the Indian tribes who engaged 
in it, was one of the most terrible visitations suffered 
by the New England settlers. It was carried on with 
unexampled vindictiveness and barbarity by the sav- 
ages. Ten or twelve villages in the Massachusetts and 
Plymouth colonies were totally destroyed, and an ex- 
terminating war was waged by the Eastern tribes in 
Maine. Not less than five hundred of the colonists — 
not including women and children — were massacred, 
killed in battle, or taken into captivity. 

A New England writer,* to whom we are indebted 
for the material for the stories in this chapter, says that 
"•the blood-thirstiness, the treachery, the cruelty, and all 
the evil passions of the savages were let loose upon 
the defenseless homes of the settlers. Thus inflamed 
to madness, the barbarians shot unsuspecting men, 
applied the torch to dwellings, tore wives from their 
husbands, and children from their mothers, and doomed 
them to the most cruel tortures of body and mind. 
They dashed out the brains of babes and with slow 
fires burned their wounded captives. They carried 
away into a captivity from which they never returned, 
children whose hard and unknown fate was to their 
parents worse than death. Every evil that the cruelty 
and vindictiveness of the savages could invent was 
practiced in this warfare." 

* Mr. William A. Crafts, in his "Pioneers in the Settlement of America.'' 



582 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



It was during this most terrible of savage wars that 
the romance of New England colonial history received 
its most striking features. Stories of incredible suf- 
fering and privation by the settlers, and of unparal- 
leled savage barbarity are painfully numerous. Every 
settler was an adventurer, and the number of won- 
derful adventures recorded during this period is truly 
remarkable. The following account of an attack on a 
settlement and the captivity of Mrs. Rowlandson, will 
give an idea of the nature of Indian warfare, and the 
heartlessness and wanton villainy of the New England 
tribes : 

The settlement of Lancaster was situated some dis- 
tance inland. Lying in a rich alluvial bottom, the 
most attractive part of a splendid valley, it possessed 
every natural advantage, and promised a rapid growth. 
At the time of our story it was one of the most im- 
portant of the inland towns, containing about fifty 
dwellings, and having a population of nearly three 
hundred. 

On the morning of the ioth of February,- 1676, 
seven months after the beginning of King Philip's War, 
Lancaster was attacked by a very large force of In- 
dians. Expecting that they would sooner or later be 
set upon by the enemy, the settlers had a few days 
before sent their minister, the Rev. Joseph Rowland- 
son, to Boston, to solicit aid. With a great deal of 
difficulty Mr. Rowlandson had succeeded in obtaining 
a force of foot soldiers for the temporary defense of 
the town, and when the attack was made, was on 
the way to its relief. He did not, however, arrive on 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



583 



the scene of action until the mischief had been 
done. 

The first shot had no sooner been fired on the out- 
skirts of the village than the inhabitants, aroused to a 
sense of their danger, commenced to leave their 
dwellings and flock to the fortified houses. Of these 
there were ten or twelve. One of the largest and 
best protected was that of the Rowlandsons. This 
was soon filled with terrified women and children and 
armed men, to the number of thirty-seven. The men 
took their places at the port-holes, awaiting the ap- 
proach of the savages, who could be seen in great 
numbers, running in all directions, shooting down fly- 
ing women and children, scalping and mangling the 
dead, and setting fire to unprotected buildings. 

The terrors of an Indian attack on a defenseless 
settlement can not be painted in colors too vivid. A 
blood-thirsty foe, whose religion is remorseless re- 
venge, and whom no circumstances can inspire with 
human charity, makes a sudden descent on a village 
which is unprepared for his assault or too weak to 
hold out against him. With barbarous fury he falls 
upon the unfortunate inhabitants. If any venture to 
resist him he puts them to speedy death, hacking and 
mangling their bodies with barbarian cruelty. His 
terrible yells send dismay to the hearts of the defense- 
less. He pillages and burns. The young, the feeble 
and the old, dragged from their places of shelter, are 
massacred without mercy. There is no respect for 
aged men or pity for women and babes. The stake 
also has its victims, and the few who are spared are 



5§4 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



taken into captivity whose miseries are without end 
or amelioration. 

The incidents of the attack on Lancaster are so hor- 
rible that no account can give an adequate descrip- 
tion of them. In one of the houses on the outskirts 
five persons were surprised. The father and mother 
and a young child were murdered, and the other two, 
who were small children, were taken captives. " One 
man," says a historian of the event, " seeing some In- 
dians about his barn, went out to speak to them, and 
was shot. Burning houses and barns as they ad- 
vanced, they at last came to the fortified houses. 
Climbing upon the barn of one of them, they fired 
down into the low fortification, and killed three men 
before their movements were observed. With fear- 
ful yells they appeared in every direction, discharging 
their guns at the houses in which the women and 
children were trembling with fear, while the men did 
their best to defend them." 

The attack on the Rowlandson house was reserved 
until near the end. "Such a doleful day," says Mrs. 
Rowlandson in her narrative, "my eyes never beheld 
before. The house stood upon the edge of a hill; 
some of the Indians got behind the hill, others into 
the barn, and others behind whatever would shelter 
them; from all which places they shot against the 
house, so that the bullets seemed to fly like hail, and 
soon they wounded one man among us, and then an- 
other, and then a third." The object of the Indians 
was to set fire to the house. They made several vain 
attempts, but at last, kindling a quantity of hemp and 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



585 



flax which they had brought from the barn, they suc- 
ceeded. The great shout which the assembled crowd 
sent up when the fire commenced to burn was the first 
information the inmates had of their peril. A hasty 
conference was held, and immediately one of the men 
who formed the feeble garrison stepped forward and 
volunteered to attempt to extinguish the flames. He 
seized two buckets of water, and, emerging from the 
building, quickly dashed their contents on the burning 
wood, returning in the midst of a shower of bullets 
unharmed. The fire was quenched, but another one 
was soon kindled. ''Some in our house," says Mrs. 
Rowlandson in her graphic description, "were fighting 
for their lives, while others were wallowing in their 
blood, the house being on fire over our heads, and the 
bloody savages were standing ready to bury their 
tomahawks in our heads if we stirred out. Now we 
could hear mothers and children crying out : ' Lord, 
what shall we do ? ' I took my children, and one of 
my sisters hers, to go out and leave the house ; but, 
as soon as we made our appearance at the door, the 
Indians fired so fast that the bullets rattled against 
the house as if one had taken a handful of stones and 
thrown them, so that we were forced to give back." 

At length the whole building was enveloped with 
flames, and the wretched occupants were driven from 
it. The massacre be^an at once. Mrs. Rowland- 
son's brother-in-law was the first to fall. While at 
his post in the besieged building he had received a 
wound in the throat, and the moment he stepped out 
of the house he dropped dead. His fall was greeted 



536 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



with an exulting cry from the savages, and the bullets 
came thick and fast. Mrs. Rowlandson was shot 
through the side, and the same bullet passed through 
the hand and entered the bowels of a child which she 
held in her arms. A boy was shot through the knee, 
and then tomahawked. Mrs. Rowlandson's eldest 
sister, who was the last to come out of the house, 
seeing the bloody work which was being wrought, ex- 
claimed : " Lord, let me die with them! " and the next 
moment fell dead on the threshold. Finally the In- 
dians suspended the massacre and secured the surviv- 
ors. Twelve of the thirty-seven had been killed ; the 
remainder, with the exception of one, who escaped, 
were taken prisoners. 

i\mong those who were carried off was Mrs. Row- 
landson. She had been wounded severely, though 
not dangerously, in the side. She was encumbered 
with her child of six years, which, as we have said, 
had been shot through the body. She was obliged to 
walk at a rapid pace nearly all the way, though she 
was occasionally permitted to mount a horse, and thus 
gained a little relief. Her sufferings were intense, and 
several times she was almost overcome with dizziness, 
caused by acute pain and extreme exhaustion. 

On the ninth day the poor child of Mrs. Rowland- 
son died. During the whole of the long and weari- 
some march, the mother had carried it in her arms. 
Its death was caused partly by the wound, which 
Mrs. Rowlandson — who knew nothing of surgery — 
had been unable to dress properly, and partly by starv- 
ation, for, though food had been given it, it had not 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



587 



retained a particle on its stomach. Its meanings were 
sad to hear. Through the long nights the distressed 
mother sat with it in her arms, unable to minister 
to its terrible sufferings, or even to protect it from 
the biting cold. One by one the Indians came 
to her each day, threatening it with death if it was 
not kept quiet. When, at last, the child died, the 
Indians showed a little consideration. They hollowed 
a shallow grave, and covered the corpse with the loose 
earth. The afflicted mother knelt down and prayed, 
and then, dropping a few tears on the little mound, 
was led on her weary way. 

A few days after this mournful event, the village 
of the Indians was reached. Here a division of the 
spoils was made. Mrs. Rowlandson, with a few of 
her companions in misery, remained in the first town. 
The remainder, among whom were a son and daugh- 
ter of Mrs. Rowlandson, and a number of her nephews 
and nieces, were carried away, and were seen by her 
afterward only once or twice, when she was permitted 
to visit them in the village to which they had been 
taken. 

Mrs. Rowlandson, in her narrative, relates some 
terrible things of the sufferings endured by her fellow 
prisoners. Mrs. Joslin, who had been a neighbor of 
hers in Lancaster, was killed by the savages in a most 
barbarous manner. We quote from Mr. Crafts : " She 
had with her a child two years old, and was soon to 
give birth to another. In her anxiety and distress 
she begged the Indians to let her go home, though 
she was many weary miles from the nearest settle- 



588 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



ment. Tired of her importunities they gathered a 
large company, and setting her unclothed in the midst, 
they danced about her in their hellish manner, for a 
long time, and knocked her and the child in her arms, 
on the head ! They then made a fire and put both 
the victims in it, threatening the other children, who, 
with trembling, witnessed the terrible scene, to serve 
them in like manner if they attempted to go home." 

The privation, ill-treatment, and intense pain ex- 
perienced by Mrs. Rowlandson, on the march, were 
sufficient to tax the last resources of most constitu- 
tions. When she arrived at the village her shoes were 
worn from her feet, and her clothes were torn so that 
her body was in many places exposed. The wound 
in her side had become a festering sore. The unac- 
customed hardships which she had endured, had im- 
parted the germs of disease to her enfeebled consti- 
tution. She confidently hoped, however, that her se- 
verest sufferings were over and that, with the rest 
and good treatment which she expected would now 
be granted her, she would be able to recover her 
strength and health. 

Mrs. Rowlandson had not, however, been lone in 
the village, before she realized that every hope which 
she had entertained was worse than idle. A future 
of untold misery was in store for her. In common 
with the Indians, and her fellow captives, she was soon 
confronted bv the horrors of starvation. Through the 
remainder of the winter, and until the late spring, a 
general famine prevailed in the tribe. Indians and 
prisoners alike were reduced to the extremest straits. 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 589 

Numbers died from the rigors of the terrible visita- 
tion, and the lives of those who survived, were linger- 
ing deaths. 

Improvidence, wastefulness, and utter disregard of 
the necessities of the future were characteristics of 
the savages. Present gratification was the only de- 
sire of their social nature. With hunger and want in 
the near future staring them in the face, they often 
recklessly wasted their substance for the sake of pass- 
ing pleasure. The famine which befell the tribe with 
whom Mrs. Rowlandson was a captive, might easily 
have been averted. At the attack on Lancaster up- 
wards of two hundred cattle, horses and other animals 
were taken by them, but these were nearly all slaugh- 
tered on the night of the victory. Mrs. Rowlandson 
says : " O the roaring, and singing, and dancing, and 
yelling of these tawny creatures on that night ! which 
made the place a lively resemblance of hell ; and there 
was a sad waste made of horses, cattle, sheep, swine, 
calves, and fowls, which they had plundered in the 
town : some lay roasting, some burning, and some 
boiling, to feed our merciless enemies, who were joy- 
ful enough, though we were desolate." 

Famine with all its horrors soon attacked them. First, 
the scanty store of winter provisions was exhausted. 
Nothing but corn remained, and this was dealt out in 
sparing quantities, a few kernels at a time. Then the 
horses and dogs were killed one by one. The meat 
of these animals was loathsome in the extreme, but 
so great were the necessities of the starving wretches 
that each one received his portion with thankfulness, 



4 



590 THE BACK- WOODSMEN. 

and devoured it uncooked with trembling eagerness. 
The scanty supplies given to the captives were often 
stolen or taken from them by force. On several oc- 
casions Mrs. Rowlandson ate nothing but a dozen 
kernels of corn and a few ground-nuts for days to- 
gether. At one time she secreted a piece of horse- 
liver in her pocket and carried it for two or three 
days, when, unable longer to control her hunger, she 
consumed it, loathsome as it was. Though her lot was 
wretched enough, she was more fortunate than many 
of her fellow-captives. She was able to earn, from 
time to time, small pittances from the savages by her 
skill in needlework. She had a kind master, who often 
generously relieved her sufferings, though her mistress 
was not so considerate, and would frequently beat her 
for the smallest fault, drive her out of doors, and de- 
prive her of her last morsel. 

At length the unfortunate woman was told that 
proposals had been made by the whites for her ran- 
som. She was taken by the savages to the chief town 
of the tribe on the banks of the Connecticut. Here 
her hopes, which had been raised to a high pitch, 
were disappointed. Delay aiter delay occurred. She 
finally despaired of ever returning to her friends, 
though assurances were repeatedly given her that, if 
enough money was paid, she would be set free. 

At this village an incident occurred, which shows 
how desperate Mrs. Rowlandson's necessities must 
have been during the famine. She met King Philip, 
the grand sachem, whom she describes as an Indian 
of noble presence and dignity ; and, in return for a 




NEW ENGLAND SCENERY. 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



593 



trifling service which she did for him, received an in- 
vitation to dine with him in his cabin. Philip's squaw 
set a meager supply of food before her, for chiefs and 
followers alike were sufferers by the famine. Mrs. 
Rowlandson's share of the dinner was a pancake, made 
of parched wheat fried in bear-grease, about as large 
as her two fingers. She ate it with gratitude and avid- 
ity. "I thought," says she, " I never tasted of more 
pleasant food in my life." 

A few weeks afterward Mrs. Rowlandson's hopes 
of release, which had been so often shattered, were 
once more raised. One day King Philip came to her. 
took her hand, and said : " Two weeks more and you 
shall be mistress." Twenty pounds was named by her 
as the sum which her friends could probably raise. 
This was accepted, and she set out on her return in 
company with Mr. Hoar, the colonial agent. She was 
welcomed by her husband and friends with transports 
of joy. A short time afterward her son and daughter 
were also released, the one at Portsmouth, and the 
other at Providence. 



Isaac Bradley and Joseph Whittaker, two Mas- 
sachusetts boys, were surprised while rambling in the 
woods by a band of Indians, and carried off. The 
savages pursued a northerly direction and traveled for 
several days, when they reached their village on the 
shores of Lake Winnipiseogee. 

The captives were treated with unusual humanity. 



594 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



They were well fed and decently used while on the 
march, instead of suffering — the customary fate of 
newly-made prisoners — starvation and punishment. 
When they reached their journey's end, they were not 
separated, but were placed in comfortable quarters 
with a kind master and mistress. 

Isaac was a very bright, active, resolute, and spir- 
ited youth of fifteen. He was esteemed as a valuable 
prize by his captors, who determined to adopt him and 
instruct him in the various savage arts, hoping that 
he would some day repay their care by devoting to 
the Indian cause the prowess and bravery of an ac- 
complished warrior. His master accordingly took 
every pains to impart to him a knowledge of the In- 
dian tongue and teach him the Indian methods of de- 
fense and attack. He profited so well by the instruc- 
tion that he soon became conversant with the Indian 
language and skilled in Indian strategy and the use 
of weapons. 

Joseph, the younger lad, was the exact opposite of 
his courageous and active companion. He was over- 
grown, weak in body, and extremely awkward. He 
was as impotent in mind and purpose, as he was slow 
and heavy in action. But, as he was inoffensive and 
of a mild and accommodating disposition, the Indians 
continued to treat him well, though obliging him to 
work hard and perform all kinds of household drudgery. 

In the middle of the winter Isaac fell sick with a 
violent fever, the result of incautious exposure. For sev- 
eral weeks he lay in a very critical condition, but finally, 
by the kind attention of his mistress, he grew better. 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



595 



While lyiner one day on a rug before the fire, he 
heard his master, and two or three other Indians, 
talking over a scheme which they had formed, of 
making a journey to Canada during the approaching 
spring. From several remarks which were made, 
Isaac gathered that it was his master's intention to 
take him and Joseph along. The thought of the 
hopelessness of his lot, if carried to so great a dis- 
tance from his home, at once presented itself strongly 
to Isaac's mind. Accustomed to think and act with 
promptness, his resolution was formed on the instant. 
He determined that, as soon as his physical condi- 
tion would permit, he would steal away from the In- 
dians and trust to his strength, activity and will to 
carry him safely through the wilderness to his home. 

Day by day Isaac felt himself slowly recovering his 
strength. But as he regained his activity, his anxiety 
and impatience increased. With the greatest uneasi- 
ness he saw the snow gradually disappear and felt the 
severity of winter relax, under the moderating influ- 
ence of coming spring. One day his master came to 
him, and informed him of his intention to visit Cana- 
da as soon as the weather would permit. He pointed 
to the lake, saving that the ice was nearly gone, and 
that in two weeks' time he expected to set out. 
"Hurry up — get well," he said to the youth, "you 
and Joe go 'long." 

As he had now carefully laid his plans of escape, 
and set the night of his intended departure, Isaac dis- 
guised his real condition, comolaining of fresh fever 
and pain, in order to throw the Indians entirely off 



59^ 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



their guard. He finally communicated his purpose to 
his companion, who at once expressed a desire to ac- 
company him in the flight. Isaac agreed to take him, 
but told him that he must cure himself of his indolence, 
muster activity and resolution, and prepare to meet, 
without flinching, all the dangers of a long, difficult 
and perilous journey. Joseph promised, and Isaac 
fixed the approaching night as the time of departure. 

When the time came for retiring, Isaac's mistress, 
who, as we have said, had shown herself very atten- 
tive to him during his sickness, came and offered to 
sit by him through the night. The youth now re- 
gretted his assumed feebleness. He told the woman 
that he did not require her assistance. She went to 
bed, but during the night awoke several times to come 
and ask him if he needed any thing. Isaac was rest- 
less and surly, and this increased the old creature's 
solicitude. His plan was frustrated for that night, but 
he resolved to mend his appearance, so that he would 
not again be prevented, by the old woman, from car- 
rying his scheme into execution. The next day he, 
accordingly, showed himself much better, and, on the 
following day announced himself entirely well, get- 
ting up and walking around the house. 

On the night of the third day after the failure of his 
plan, Isaac lay down betimes, resolved to make the 
desperate attempt as soon as the family should all be 
asleep. He had told Joseph of his intention, and cau- 
tioned him not to sleep too heavily. The boy, how- 
ever, forgot, or else did not heed the injunction, for 
he had no sooner lain down than he commenced to 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



597 



snore. Isaac was completely disgusted, and felt that 
he would gain very little by making the sluggish 
youth a companion in his undertaking, but as he was 
attached to him by true friendship, he resolved to give 
him one more opportunity of recovering his freedom. 

The Indians of the family dropped asleep one by 
one, and their measured breathing: at last informed 
the young adventurer that the hour which he had so 
patiently awaited was come. With all his plans fully 
matured, Isaac arose, drew on his jacket and carefully 
adjusted his moccasins. He then stepped noiselessly 
to a corner of the cabin, where he found and appro- 
priated the old Indian's flint and tinder for striking 
fire, together with a small supply of moose meat, which 
hung from a peg on the wall. Leaving the cabin with 
these articles, he secreted them under a bush, and, 
going back into the house, crept noiselessly to the 
spot where Joseph lay and gently shook him. The 
forgetful boy was fast asleep. Isaac had to stir him 
vigorously before he awoke. This was discouraging 
enough, but Isaac's heart sank within him and his 
hopes of safe retreat seemed to vanish, when he heard 
his awakened companion demand in a loud voice and 
an angry manner, " What do you want? " Isaac was 
at his wits' end, and he stood shaking with fear lest 
the voice should arouse the Indians. In a moment, 
however, he remembered himself, and sunk quietly 
down by Joseph's side, assumed a natural position, 
and waited anxiously to see whether the sleepers had 
heard the voice. 

Fortune declared in the lad's favor. Not one of 



598 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



the Indians stirred, and Isaac, after listening for awhile 
to their breathings, which were still regular and per- 
fectly natural, became convinced that they were all ig- 
norant. He congratulated himself on the happy re- 
sult, and thought that there was still hope. But he 
despaired of being able to free his companion, whom 
he reluctantly resolved to leave to his fate, as he was 
too lazy and indifferent to profit by the golden oppor- 
tunity. 

When he was perfectly assured that he might again 
make the attempt without danger, Isaac arose, and 
stealing, as he thought, unheard from the cabin, found 
himself safe in the open air. With cautious footsteps 
he crept to the place where he had concealed his flint 
and moose meat. He found these as he had laid 
them, took them up, and then turned to look back at 
the cabin. Confusion, terror and despair caused him 
to drop them from his hands and sink almost uncon- 
scious to the ground when he saw a dark form emerge 
from the door and approach him. " It is my mas- 
ter," he said to himself; "he has discovered my ab- 
sence, and all that I now have to do is to give myself 
up." In a moment, however, he discovered his error. 
The person was not his master, come in pursuit, but 
Joseph, who, awakened from his sleep, had suddenly 
remembered Isaac's scheme, and come to join him. 
Isaac was overjoyed, and the flight was commenced 
at once. 

The two boys hurried off into the forest, retracing 
as well as they could the course which they had fol- 
lowed with the Indians. They traveled with very few 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



599 



stops, and without hearing any thing to indicate that 
they were pursued, until daybreak, when they crept 
into a hollow log, determining to lie concealed till 
night should permit them to resume their journey un- 
perceived. Joseph, completely worn out with the 
long and rapid march, soon dropped asleep, but Isaac 
was too much excited by the events of the night, and 
too anxious regarding the result, to feel any indication 
to close his eyes. He sat crouched in the log, wake- 
ful and vigilant. Though he strove to dismiss all fear, 
he knew too well that, as he had made himself valu- 
able to the Indians, they would not willingly let him 

go- 
Suddenly his reflections were rudely interrupted. 

The distant barking of dogs smote upon his ear. He 

involuntarily clutched Joseph by the throat, and said 

in a voice trembling with excitement, " The Indians are 

coming !" Joseph commenced to cry piteously, and 

both drew further back into the log. The barking of 

the dogs grew more and more distinct, and at length 

the boys heard the animals crashing through the thick 

bushes. In a moment they reached the log, and to 

the consternation of the fugitives made a stand and 

barked with great fury, running around in an excited 

manner. Isaac fancied that he heard the steps of the 

Indians and the violent oaths of his master. " Let us 

throw sticks at the dogs and frighten them away," 

said Joseph; but his companion told him that he had 

a better plan, and thought that they might yet escape. 

Thrusting his head out of his place of concealment, 

Isaac called the animals by their names, for they be- 



6oo 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



longed to his master, and he had often fed and ca- 
ressed them. To his great relief, as soon as they 
heard his voice, they ceased barking. But a new dif- 
ficulty quickly presented itself. Recognizing in Isaac 
a friend, the dogs ran up to him and commenced to 
jump and frolic about him. By this time the boys 
could plainly hear the Indians coming toward them. 
Something had to be done at once. Isaac's presence 
of mind did not desert him. Seizing the meat which 
he had taken with him, he threw it to the animals. 
They at once left the log and commenced to eat it. 

When the Indians came up they saw the animals 
busy devouring the meat, and, supposing that the 
fugitives, in their flight, had thrown it to them to pre- 
vent them from pressing too hard, did not stop to 
make an examination, but ran forward still more ra- 
pidly, expecting soon to overtake their prey. In a 
short time the dogs trotted on. Happily the Indians 
did not return. The boys remained concealed during 
the day, and, when the evening appeared, left the log 
and continued their flight. When the second morning 
dawned, they again sought a hiding-place, and, glad 
of the opportunity, lay down and slept during the 
day, resuming their journey with the first shades ol 
night. 

Isaac now regretted having sacrificed the whole 
of his meat to the dogs. He had thus far been able 
to satisfy his own and his companion's hunger, for, 
besides the venison, he had brought a small supply 
of corn-bread. But this was now entirely consumed. 
Joseph despaired. "We shall die of hunger," he 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



60 1 



said. " We shall not die," replied Isaac bravely: " if 
we go as fast as we can, we shall get home before 
starvation overtakes us, and then our dear fathers 
and mothers will give us good food. Be brave, Jo- 
seph, for I will take care of you until then. We may 
chance to kill a deer, or, at any rate, trap a few 
rabbits." 

With a courage and perseverance which would 
have done credit to the oldest adventurer, Isaac con- 
tinued to push forward in spite of all discouragements. 
He was now no longer afraid of Indians, and scarcely 
regarded the difficulties of the march, and the bruised 
and swollen condition of his own and his companion's 
limbs, for his sole thought was to reach a settlement be- 
fore starvation should oblige them to succumb. Joseph 
often begged him with tears in his eyes to permit him 
to stop and rest, but he was unyielding. After their 
bread had given out, they ate nothing for three days 
but a pigeon and a small turtle, which Isaac succeeded 
in catching, and both of which they consumed raw. For 
two days afterward their only food was roots and buds. 
On the seventh day Joseph often fell to the ground. 
Isaac brought him roots to eat and water to drink, gen- 
erously disregarding his own necessities. 

On the eighth day Joseph gave up altogether, but 
Isaac was still resolved not to desert him. He carried 
him in his arms for several miles, and did not leave 
him until he saw that he was too near his end for any 
assistance to avail, when he laid him on the ground, 
and told him that he would go forward alone and see 
if he could not find help. 



602 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Following the course of a river, which he knew led 
to the sea-coast, and must sooner or later bring him 
to a settlement, Isaac traveled two or three miles with- 
out seeing any indications that he was in the neigh- 
borhood of civilized people. About the middle of the 
afternoon he suddenly came to a large clearing, where 
a number of trees had been felled, and, going a little 
further, saw, to his amazement and delight, the frame 
of a newly-raised building. He immediately turned 
round and retraced his steps with an eagerness which 
can be imagined. As he approached the spot where 
Joseph lay, he commenced to shout and sing. " Cheer 
up, Joe," said he, as he knelt down by his side, "we 
will soon be home." The poor boy languidly opened 
his eyes and said that it was too late, that he could go 
no further. But Isaac was determined ; he stripped 
Joseph of his clothes and rubbed his limbs vigorously, 
dashed water in his face, and finally induced him to 
rise. They walked until night without coming to the 
hoped-for settlement, but at last saw a faint light in 
the distance. They reached the house, and were chari- 
tably cared for. Isaac soon recovered his strength, 
and made his way to his father's home in Haverhill. 
In a few weeks he was followed by Joseph. The lat- 
ter had been seized with a violent fever immediately 
after the end of the journey, and for many days lay 
in a hopeless condition; but he happily recovered. 
Thus, after traveling for eight days and nights, almost 
without food, the two boys reached their homes. 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



603 



The massacre at Dover, New Hampshire, was one 
of the bloodiest events in the colonial history of New 
England. It was inspired by the vindictiveness of a 
band of revengeful Indians. A number of instances 
of extreme cruelty and base treachery on the part of 
the whites was its remote cause. The hatred of the 
Indians was directed chiefly toward Major Richard 
Waldron, the magistrate of the village, who, by his 
severity in judging Indian offenders had become the 
object of their intensest resentment. 

A few days before the massacre, the savages, at 
that time sustaining professed peaceful relations with 
the whites, commenced to appear in the town in un- 
usually large numbers. They passed through it ap- 
parently for trading purposes, but some of the citizens 
could not fail to observe that they were meditating a 
hostile design, as their appearances were suspicious, 
and the squaws occasionally dropped mysterious 
hints. Mr. Waldron, who, though advanced in years 
was still the most influential citizen, was consulted by 
his uneasy neighbors. But he laughed at their fears, 
saying that, with many years' experience with the In- 
dians, he had come to know them perfectly, and to 
entertain for them a hearty contempt. On the very 
evening of the terrible calamity a young man came to 
him and represented the dangerous posture of affairs 
in a most convincing manner, but Waldron said: " I 
am better acquainted with the ways of the savages 
than you. Do not be troubled ; there is nothing to 
be afraid of." 

When the night came on which was to afford the 



604 



THF BACK-WOODSMEN. 



Indians their long-awaited opportunity of executing 
their cherished revenge, the town was full of swarthy 
warriors. But, trusting in Waldron's assurances, the 
inhabitants had not taken the least precaution. The 
Indians had brought with them a number of squaws, 
who sought and obtained shelter in the fortified 
houses. Before lying down to rest, the women asked 
the men in the houses to show them how to unbar 
the doors, in case they should need to go out. This 
was done without hesitation. 

Mr. Waldron, who occupied one of the fortified 
buildings, was applied to by two squaws and an old 
chief for shelter. He readily granted their request, 
and, mindful of the obligations of hospitality, also in- 
vited them to take supper with him. They were only 
too glad to comply. At table one of the squaws 
said that a band of strange Indians would come to the 
village the next day to trade with him. The old In- 
dian then said : " Brother Waldron, what would you 
do if the Indians should come?" " Oh ! " replied he, 
in an indifferent manner, but with a steadfast look, 
" I shall be glad to see them. But tell them they must 
behave themselves, for I can raise a hundred armed 
men by lifting my finger." 

About midnight the squaws in the garrison arose, 
unbarred the doors, and gave the signal for attack. 
Immediately great numbers of Indians rushed into the 
buildings, and commenced to kill the unsuspecting 
whites. Very few escaped. The Indians plundered 
and burned nearly every dwelling in the village. Al- 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



605 



together, twenty-three persons were killed and twenty- 
nine were taken prisoners. 

The house of Mr. W aldron was attacked by a swarm 
of his vindictive enemies. The old man heard the 
noise, and immediately springing from his bed grasped 
his sword, and met his assailants at the door of his 
room. The savages at once raised a furious cry, and 
thronged forward to overpower him. W aldron did 
not wait to be attacked, but threw himself into their 
midst with veteran courage, dealing his blows with all 
the skill and vigor 01 his younger days. He forced 
them back for a time, but at length a warrior, stealing 
up behind him, felled him to the ground by a power- 
ful stroke. The brave old man was instantly seized, 
and his enemies, placing his arm-chair on a table, 
lifted him into it. "Who shall judge Indians now?'' 
they shouted, as they danced around him. At length 
one of them came up to him, and, tearing his night- 
gown from his body, drew a knife across his breast, 
exclaiming: "So I cross out my account!" The ex- 
ample was followed by all the rest ; and, when this 
savage ceremony was ended, they hacked his feet, 
hands, and limbs, with their knives and tomahawks. 
One of the Indians cut off his nose and ears, and 
thrust them into his mouth. Finally the victim, over- 
come by loss of blood, fell from his chair. An Indian 
seized the old man's sword, and, as he sank, held its 
point to his breast. Mr. Waldron was found trans- 
fixed by the weapon, his feet and hands hewed from 
his body, and his entrails protruding in a most shock- 
ing manner. 



6o6 



THE BACK-WOODSMEN. 



An incident of the massacre is told as follows by 
Mr. Crafts: 

"On the opposite side of the river were the forti- 
fied houses of Peter Coffin and his son. The elder 
Coffin's house was surprised, like the others, but the 
savages had no old scores of revenge to cross out, so 
they spared him and his family, though they pillaged 
the house. The younger Coffin had refused to admit 
the squaws who applied to him for a lodging, and the 
Indians, therefore, did not gain an entrance, as they 
did at the other houses, but, after sacking his father's 
house, they summoned him to surrender, promising 
him quarter. He refused, and resolved to defend his 
castle to the last. The besiegers then brought out 
his father, and threatened to kill him if their demand 
was not acceded to; and, knowing that they would 
make good their threats if he refused, or even hesi- 
tated, he surrendered. They put both families into a 
deserted house, while they pillaged the garrisons and 
burned the neighboring mills, intending, when their 
ravages were completed, to carry them away as pris- 
oners; but, while the savages were intent on their 
plunder, the captives escaped." 

Among the members of Major Waldron's family, 
who escaped death, was Sarah Gerrish, his grand- 
daughter, a little girl seven years old. When the 
Indians entered the house, she left her bed and crept 
into another, hiding herself beneath the mattresses. 
But the Indians, in searching the house, discovered 
her, and commanded her to rise and clothe herself. She 
was led off with the other captives. Her sufferings 



RC 10.5 



NEW ENGLAND STORIES. 



607 



and wrongs are told in the following vivid manner by 
Mr. Crafts: 

" The hardships endured by the prisoners, and the 
cruelty suffered at the hands of their captors, were 
terrible, even to adults ; and to a child of such a ten- 
der age, who fared no better than the rest, they must 
have been fearful indeed. They were divided as prizes 
among the captors, and the little girl, separated from 
the others, became the property of one of the Indians, 
who was probably neither better nor worse than the 
others ; but she was subjected to many cruel threats, 
suffered for want of food, and was abused by squaws 
and Indian children. Once her master, placing her 
against a tree, loaded his gun, as if he intended to 
shoot her. But whether he repented of his purpose, 
or it was merely an idle and cruel threat, he con- 
tented himself with terrifying her. She was pushed 
into a river by a squaw, but fortunately succeeded in 
saving herself from drowning by catching at some 
bushes on the bank. She was left asleep in the wil- 
derness, while the Indians went on their way, careless 
whether or not she perished ; but fear lent her strength 
and speed, and following their tracks in the snow, she 
at last overtook them, glad, even in their cruel com- 
pany, to escape from the deathly solitude of the woods. 
At last the frequent threats of the Indian boys, that 
she was soon to be burnt to death, seemed to her 
about to be realized. A large fire had been kindled, 
and her master calling her to him, told her she must 
be roasted alive. It may have been an idle threat, 
but the cruel impulses of the savages sometimes led 



6o8 



THE BACK— WOODSMEN. 



them to put such threats into execution. To the poor 
child it was real ; and in her terror she burst into tears, 
and throwing her arms around her master's neck, she 
entreated him to spare her life. Even his savage nat- 
ure was touched, and he promised she should not be 
harmed. At length she was sold to a French lady, in 
Canada, and, after an absence of sixteen months, was 
restored to her parents." 



THE END. 



